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p. 16 


GEIS OF THE BOG; 

A TALE OE THE IRISH PEASANTRY. 


MRS. 






JANE D.J- CHAPLIN. 



/ 8 &” 7 ' 

PUBLISHED BY THE 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 
184 TKEAIONT STREET, BOSTON. 


.C37 

Q-^ 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by 
JANE DUNBAR CHAPLIN. 

I 

In the Clerk’s OHice of the District Court of the District of 
Massachusetts. 




The principal characters and scenes in the following 
pages are drawn, very nearly, from real life. The story 
was first published as a serial in the “ Watchman and 
Reflector.” 


• % 


J. D. C. 


I. The First Families oe Killyrooke, ... 5 

II. A New 3Iistress, 19 

III. Mammy Honey 30 

IV. Paddy Mannon, 39 

V. A Cloud over Daisy Farm, 51 

YI. Conflict and Victory, 68 

VII. Visit to the Minister, 80 

VIII. Singing and "SYorking, 91 

IX. An Unwelcome Guest, ...... 99 

X. Famine and Death, 106 

XI. A Great Sorrow, . . * 121 

XII. Homeless, 135 

XIII. Sowing by the Wayside, 145 

XIV. Misery in the Cottage, 154 

XV. On the Mount, 162 

XVI. An Awakened Conscience, 177 

XVII. Lay-Preaching at the Lough, .... 186 

XVIII. A Visit of 3Iercy, 197 

XIX. Elder Peter, . . .' 209 

XX, Deliverance From Evil, 219 

XXI. Paddy Mannon at Miss Grey's, . . . .234 

XXII. A Happy “ Home-Bringing,” 253 

XXIII. The New Life at Daisy Farm. .... 267 
XXIV. The Enemy again, 279 


4 


CONTENTS. 


XXV. A Consecrated Life, . 

XXVI. Visit from Friend and Foe, . 
XXVII. Going to America, 

XXVIII. A rAiNFUE Parting, . 

XXIX. Stolen by the Foe, . 

XXX_ Patient in Tribulation, . 
XXXI. Xew Homes in the Xe-w World, 
XXXII. Paddy’s Wisdom, .... 
XXXIII. A Joyful Meeting, 

XXXIV. The Old Foe again, 

XXXA’". Promotion and Reward, . 


287 

300 

313 

322 

329 

339 

313 

3G2 

371 

381 

388 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 

T he picturesque little hamlet of Killyrooke 
consisted of one long row of straw-thatched 
cottages, eacli having its garden patch stocked 
with potatoes and cabbages, and graced by a 
pig-pen. In most of the dwellings a hole in 
the wall sufficed for a window, wliile the floor 
was only the hard-beaten earth. Art had 
never entered Killyrooke ; but nature, so 
lavish of her bounties to all beautiful Ireland , 
had not forgotten this remote and quiet nook. 
The green lawns, tlie fields of flax and barley, 
the high old hedges, the bluest and brightest 
of waters, flie blackest and richest of bogs had 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


charms unutterable for the hearts of her simple 
children. As the Switzer mourns for his 
mountains, and the Icelander for his snows, 
so they, when exiled, mourn for their native 
bogs. 

The society of Killyrooke, humble as it was, 
boasted of its distinctions as much as did that 
of neighboring towns. The farmer — so called 
— sat upon the pinnacle of the little social 
fabric. He leased a bit of land, and owned a 
donkey, two or three cows, and pigs whose 
name was legion. The next grade were the 
laborers, many of them meriting that name 
only in harvest, living as they did in idleness 
and want most of the year ; while the lowliest 
of all were the professional beggars, who lived 
on the bounty of the gentry and larger farmers 
in the surrounding region, and who made their 
headquarters in Killyrooke, finding shelter in 
dilapidated huts and cow-houses, or with the 
tender-hearted peasants. 

At one end of the long street lay in quiet 
beauty the little ‘‘ Lough,” a heritage of mercy 
to the people. Beside its bright* waters the 


THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 7 

ruddy daughters of the hamlet met once a 
week to wash their garments and to gossip 
over affairs of common interest. All day these 
nymphs stood knee deep in the water, splashing 
it about, either in work or play, while their 
plaintive Irish airs, chanted in time with their 
rubbing, and their merry wild laughter, woke 
the echoes from the neighboring hills. The 
washing done, they spread their clothes on the 
bright turf around the ‘‘ Lough,” and then sat 
down to wait for sunset, which always brought 
brothers, friends and lovers, as well as the 
older people, who came from curiosity to see 
and hear all that interested the girls and boys. 
What “ Change ” is to the city merchant, what 
the tavern and the store are to the remote 
villager, what the “ sewing-society ” is to 
ladies among us, the Lough was, at the 
time of which we write, to the dwellers in 
Killyrooke. Here the old men bargained for 
donkeys and discussed the probable price, of 
potatoes; here the young “boys” planned 
long tramps to fairs and horse-races, and ex- 


8 


GEMS OF TEE BOG. 


changed soft words with the ruddy-cheeked 
girls resting on the green banks. And in 
the background the mothers whispered their 
secrets of joy or woe in each other’s ears, and 
the grandmothers — always the nursery-maids 
among the the lowly Irish — swung themselves 
to and fro, wailing the babies to slumber, and 
varying their motion and tlieir music by an 
occasional blow or epithet aimed at the older 
urchins, who thwarted their efforts by tickling 
the toes of the drowsy infants. 

We have said there was an aristocracy in 
this humble Killyrooke. It comprised the 
rival houses of Sheehan and O’ Gorman, and 
arose mainly from the fact that their ancestors 
had more land and better cottages than their 
neighbors, and that their dwellings alone had 
each a glass window to admit the liglit and to 
exclude the rain. But alas for human great- 
ness ! There must be always some drawback 
to its perfect enjoyment. These families had 
for generations been bitter rivals as well as 
equals, and the distinction enjoyed by both 


THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 9 

above tlieir neighbors could not atone for the 
lieart-burnings and envy on the one hand, and 
the wounded feelings on the other. 

But at the time when our story begins, the 
equality was broken, and the rivalry was 
waning. Sloth had taken captive the represen- 
tative of the O’ Gormans ; while that “ which 
biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an 
adder ” had bound in its not less ruinous coil 
the wife, Biddy. Thus nine young scions of 
the house were left without care or restraint, 
save the brawlings exchanged between them- 
selves, and the beatings bestowed on the 
younger eight by the first-born of the family, 
Nan, a bright girl of seventeen. 

Nan O’ Gorman was very fair, having in 
some way monopolized all the beauty in the 
family. Once in a while the dying energy of 
her race would suddenly flash up in her breast, 
and for days she would scrub and sweep the 
cottage, wash the children’s faces, switch the 
pigs from the door-way, and begin to spin yarn 
for the winter’s stockings. Then the embers 
would die out, and Nan was off to a race oi 


10 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


a sliow, returning in sucli company and at such 
a time as jdcased herself. Meanwhile the little 
ones got a meal, or a crust, or went suppcrless 
to bed, according to the quantity of whiskey 
their mother had been able to procure. Is it 
any wonder, then, that the clay chimney had 
fallen, and that the envied glass window had 
been boarded up for want of panes ? 

While the O’ Gormans were thus falling to 
decay, the Sheehans, who lived across the way, 
still prospered in worldly things, and kept up 
their honor and their name. Prudence and in- 
dustry, long the guardians of their humble 
dwelling, still spread their wings above it ; 
plenty blessed the cottage and the land, and 
none in want were ever sent empty from the 
door. 

There was not, and never had been, one point 
on which these two families could meet in sym- 
pathy. “We are no farther apart now,” said 
John Sheehan, the farmer of Daisy Farm, 
“ than wo iver war. The O’Gormans have been 
Papists since the time when there war darkness 
on the face o’ the deep, as mentioned in Scrip- 


THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE 11 

tur’, and the Sheehans have been Protestants 
since the day in which God said, ‘ Let there be 
liglit.’ ” 

But neither of these men, we are sorry to 
say, Avas a consistent defender of his own faith ; 
for while Pat 0’ Gorman would roll up his 
sleeves and figlit in defence of the “ mother 
church ” and all her mummeries, he lived in 
utter disregard of tlie decalogue she command- 
ed him to obey. And John Sheehan, with the 
Assembly’s Catechism on his tongue, and a 
hatred of all Popery in his heart, was only a 
self-righteous Pharisee, walking in the light 
of the fire his own hands had kindled. He 
gloried in his laming,” in his Protestantism, 
in his Scotch descent, in the piety of his par- 
ents, in the respect paid him in the little Pres- 
byterian church of the next town, and in every 
thing he had and did. He lacked humility, 
and was in great danger of striking a rock, as 
he sailed on with his eyes shut to the dangers 
around him. He was blind while boasting of 
his clear sight ; dead in sin while he fancied 
himself a living and active member, to whom 


12 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


tlie ‘‘ body of Christ ” was under great obliga- 
tion. It’s a fine thing to be a Christian,” he 
said, “ but a finer thing to be a rispectible 
Christian.” 

But, for all this self-deception, John Sheehan 
led a very different life from his neighbor. The 
dormouse-like existence of O'Gorman we have 
mentioned already. John Sheelian, like his 
ancestors, was noted for his mercy to the poor 
and his strict attention to his own busi- 
ness. It was his proudest boast — and John 
was a proud man — that his ancestors were all 
of his own way of thinking, and that the great- 
great-grandfather back of them all, Hugh Mc- 
Millan, was a Scotch Covenanter; and that 
while a drop of that holy blood was left in his 
veins he would hate sin and cleave to temper- 
ance and virtue; and that no beggar or outcast 
should be sent hungry from his door ; he would 
feed and shelter Protestants for their own 
sakes, and Catholics for the love of God, who 
made and bears with them. 

Daisy Farm was well-tilled, and divided by 
wide ditches and hedges of long growth, and 


THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 13 

John’s harvests were always the richest in the 
region. His cattle were well fed and housed, 
and treated almost like members of his family. 
Not seldom did he address a restless cow in 
soft tones, saying, Gently, dear, gently.” He 
was the soul of good nature, so that the O’ Gor- 
mans had found it much harder keeping up 
enmity with him, than with his stern, resolute 
old father before him. It was very hard to 
hate the man who called their dirty children 
“ dearies,” and who fed them with ginger- 
bread. 

As John kept up the reputation of the farm, 
so did his wife that of the dairy and poultry- 
yard. His aged mother was still regarded as 
head of the family, and treated with a defer- 
ence amounting to veneration. Her husband, 
while he lived, had always called her “ Honey,” 
so her dairy-maid and the farm-servant fell in- 
to the way of calling her “ Misthress Honey,” 
and to John she had always been “Mammy 
Honey.” And when John brought a young 
mistress to the cottage, the good woman found 
herself called “ Mammy Honey,” by way of 


14 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


distinction from the new Mistress Sheehan, by 
all Killyrooke. Never was a sweet name more 
justly applied. Her gentleness, love of peace 
and true generosity had long made her a won- 
der — almost an object of awe — among lier 
neighbors. To her was due the peace which 
had cheered the last hours of the old rivals — 
her husband and the father of Pat O’Gorman, 
— and her soft word had often turned away 
from John and his wife the wrath of the present 
occupants of the ruined cot. 

Mammy Honey was not merely a good-tem- 
pered woman ; she possessed a strong mind 
and a noble heart. The stern blood of the old 
McMillans flowed through her veins, and the 
faith which had enabled them to sing psalms 
of triumph in the face of their foes still burned 
in her heart and lighted up her eyes. Had 
she lived in the days of the Covenanters, 
rather than have yielded her conscience to a 
tyrannical king she would have added her 
blood to that wh^ch then moistened the Scottish 
moors. 

For fifty years, since she came a bride to 


THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE, 15 

Killyrooke, Mammy Honey had walked blame- 
less among her neighbors, yielding her inter- 
ests, her feelings, every thing but her con- 
science, for peace’s sake. While no bitter 
words ever escaped her lips against the pre- 
vailing religion, she set her face with Puritanic 
firmness against all wliich she believed to be 
heresy, so that while serving and watching, as 
had always been her wont, by the sick-bed of 
her neighbors, she had never suffered her eyes 
to look upon, nor her ears to hear, the forms 
and mummeries which she regarded as the 
idolatry forbidden in the Word of Truth. 

While the thriftless women about her en- 
vied her neat cottage, her fruitful garden, and 
her whole glass window, they loved her, and, 
aside from the rival O'Gormans, there was 
scarcely one in the hamlet who would have 
listened silently while her name was lightly 
spoken ; a few were even sensitive, for her sake, 
when the church of her love was reviled. 

When, arrayed in her brown Sunday gown, 
and cloak of duffle gray, with her broad frilled 
cap bound to her head by a black ribbon, and 


16 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


leaning on John’s strong arm, Mammy Honey 
walked erect and firm to the little Presbyte- 
rian church at Cloynmally, she looked like a 
duchess in disguise rather than like the hum- 
ble peasant she was. 

One Sunday morning as she set off thus, her 
farm-servant, Paddy Mannon — of whom more 
anon — exclaimed to a trail of companions 
who passed on their way to mass, while he, 
easy soul, saj astride the stile gazing at them, 
‘‘ Look at her, b’ys, this gold morning ! 
Heaven smile on her beauty! Sure, thin, 
she was made for a throne, but sint in mis- 
take to a farm ; and will ye dare to say that 
because she turns her back on the church, and 
‘ his riverence,’ and the saints, and the pictiirs, 
and the beads, that she’ll not enter heaven ? 
’Dade I’ll fight the first one as dares say it ; 
and I’ll bet my new brogues with any of ye 
that there’s not as fine-looking a woman in 
heaven now as herself is — the bet to be paid 
when we gits there and proves it.” And Paddy 
winked at his comrades, to impress them with 
his shrewdness, while they laughed and called 


THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 17 

back, “ How comes it, Paddy, that ye ’bides in 
the true church yerself, while ye believe that 
Protestants will enter heaven as well as our- 
selves ? ” 

“ How is it, indade ? ” replied Paddy. “ It’s 
because I was born in it, and can’t throw it 
off like my coat, and I wouldn’t if I could, be 
so mane. I’m not plazed with the freckles on 
my face, but do ye think I’m going to skin 
myself to get clear o’ them ? I don’t like 
these dull little eyes o’ my own, but do ye 
think I’ll pull them out o’ my head for that 
same ? Indade, no ! I stands on my honor, I 
does, in this matter o’ religion ; and though 
themselves has fed, and clothed, and rared me 
from a starved workhouse-child. I’ll not throw 
up my religion to plaze them. I’m great on 
conscience, and I’m not the b’y to sell my 
principles for a home, my birthright for a bowl 
o’ porridge, as one mean-sperited lad in the 
Scriptur’ did ; not I.” 

Paddy was a man made up of contradictions. 
He was faithful to tne Sheehans but he was 
so careless of the poor wages he earned that 


18 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


he either gave or threw them away as soon as 
he got them. He had a wife and child, and 
would go almost wild with joy when they came 
to see him, but if months elapsed without a 
visit, he never sought them out, nor felt any 
anxiety for their welfare. He made all man- 
ner of sport of his riverence and the church,” 
but almost fell on his knees at sight of the 
priest, and shook with fear when rebuked by 
him for unfaithfulness. He was as light- 
hearted as the colt he was rearing, and felt no 
more care for the future. It was joy enough 
for him to live, and “ sarve Misthress Honey.” 


CHAPTER II. 


A NEW MISTRESS. 

J OHN Sheehan had lived many years after 
his father’s death with no companion but his 
mother and Paddy Mannon. Being of a very 
social nature, he sometimes complained that 
the cottage was “ a dale too silent and lone ” 
for him; and yet he had reached thirty without 
a thought of marrying. When one suggested 
tliat he needed a wife, he would ask, with filial 
jealousy, “ Do ye see any thing goin’ wrong 
about the cottage or farm, that a wife could 
mend ? And where would I ever find a woman 
tliat would bide bein’ subject to Mammy 
Honey ? And that every body about me shall 
be, while Heaven spares her — the darling.” 

He had scarcely uttered these words to a 
neighbor who was bantering him one day, when 
he drove off to sell five lovely young pigs ” 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


*10 

to Farmer Doane, a prosperous man in the next 
county. Arrived there, he received a welcome 
both as merchant and as guest, and after 
pocketing his silver, took his place at the long 
deal table, on which smoked the sweet bacon, 
potatoes and cabbage raised on the farm. Here 
his eye fell on Peggy O’ Canty, a young orphan 
who assisted the good wife in the dairy, and 
wliom the worthy couple always addressed as 
Peggy, jewel.” He stole one sly glance at 
her as she poured out the buttermilk at table, 
and another when he left the kitchen to ac- 
company Doane to the cow-house ; and then 
he mustered courage to ask her name and 
history. 

In a marvellously short time John had pigs 
to sell again, to the great amazement of Mam- 
my Honey, who looked upon it very much like 
selling her relations ; and in this second visit 
to Doane’s he fairly lost his heart, and came 
home laying plans to brighten up the cottage, 
and buy a new donkey-cart and a suit of 
“ younger-lookin’ clothes.” 

When he got Paddy Mannon off to his bed 


A MISTJiESS. 


21 


ill the loft tliat night, John opened his mind to 
his mother, dwelling on Peggy’s charms of 
face, and manner, and heart, as if he had 
known her for years, while the truth was he 
had never yet spoken to her ! ‘‘ And now, 

Mammy Honey,” he said, ‘‘ here’s the way 
open for me to have company, and for ye to 
have help in the cottage and the dairy ; what 
would you say to my bringing her here ? ” 

I’d think well o’ it, John,” replied the old 
woman, “ if I knew she war a humble. God- 
fearing child, for it’s such a one ye need, and 
not a flighty thing that would be running off to 
fairs and races and leading ye farther off from 
God — which same is unneedful. Ye must ride 
over to Doane’s some day and ask him is the 
girl a Protestant and a Christian, and does she 
mind her duty humbly, as if she felt the 
Masther’s eye on her. And more, John, dear, 
ask is she tinder and loving ; for I could nivcr 
give ye up without getting back love as my 
payment ; for ye are all I have left in the world, 
now ! 0, lad, it’s a great thing for a mother 

to give her only son to another woman, and 


22 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


one she niver saw ! But as I have not been a 
selfish mother, no more will I be now ! May 
ten thousand blessings rest on ye both, darling, 
and may I live to see ye happy together.” 

John soon “ got leave of his mother” — he 
was a man of six feet two, weighing two 
hundred pounds ! — ‘‘to ask a line of character 
from the minister of Oloynmally to Peggy’s 
master, begging his leave to marry her.” 
Hitherto Peggy had never heard of his inten- 
tions, and was quite amazed when her master 
explained matters to her in presence of the 
suitor. After John had left the house, she 
expressed great surprise to her mistress why 
such a fine, settled body should be looking after 
a poor, foolish, shy thing like herself. But the 
acquaintance grew and ripened as well as it 
would have done environed by the strictest 
rules of etiquette. When at last the matter 
was settled, Peggy could hardly tell which she 
loved most, John or his mother. She was 
quite as proud of Mammy Honey — who had 
visited her with an offering of ten hanks of 
flax yarn, ten ells of linen and six pairs of 


A I^EW MISTRESS. 


23 


stockings — as of her son, “ the fine settled 
masther.’^ 

When the marriage ceremony was over, 
John brought Pe'ggy home in the new donkey- 
cart, — the only equipage his establishment 
boasted. Mammy Iloney stood in the cottage 
door arrayed in her best cap and gown, to 
receive them, while Paddy Mannon, in his 
Sunday corduroys and brogues, took the 
donkey’s bridle, and stood waiting to witness 
Peggy’s reception. 

Fflding the young orphan to her breast. 
Mammy Honey cried out, with the eloquence of 
her people, ‘‘ Blissed be the God and Father 
of the orphan, that has this day given ye a 
mother, Peggy O’Canty ! Blissed be the God 
and husband of the widow, that has this day 
given me a daughter, who never had a one 
before ! It is this old heart, jewel, l^at will 
hide ye where trouble can never find ye ; and 
it’s on yer lovin’ breast, mavourneen, that 
I’ll lean and forget there’s such things as old 
age and wakeness in the world.” 

Then throwing her arms around the stalwart 


24 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


form of John, she cried out, ‘‘ Ye, darlin’, 
are the son o’ a righteous man, and have come 
of a long line o’ them that feared God. The 
promise to the seed o’ the rigliteous has been 
fulfilled to ye, and see now that ye ’bide in the 
fear o’ God and seek Him hencefortli with the 
whole heart. Look, boy,” she continued, 
“ and see what God has given ye to make 
your home shine like heaven, and to close the 
dying eyes o’ yer old mother ! God save ye, 
John, from ever piercing her heart with one 
sharp word. And now the grace o’ God Jjide 
on ye both and on this house ! ” 

Peggy was a blue-eyed, fair-haired girl, 
“made of love, entirely,” John himself — and 
who should know better than he ? — being 
witness in the case. She loved everything, 
from John and his mother down to the ducks 
and the^chickens ; whatever had life shared in 
her love or pity. She now bound up her hair 
under a snowy cap, saying, “ As John are ten 
years older nor me, he’ll be plazed to see me 
layin’ off girlish ways and lookin’ sober-like.” 
She applied herself to her work with that 


A NEW MISTRESS. 


25 


glad spirit wliicli changes toil to a blessing, 
and soon became the model wife of the region. 
The whitest flax, the sweetest butter and the 
brightest hearth-stone were hers. But such 
was her humility that she took none of the 
credit, but always spoke of “ Mammy Honey’s 
silver flax ” and “ Mammy Honey’s golden 
butter ; ” and wondered why John ever chose 
her for his wife, and how Mammy Honey 
could bear so patiently with her slow ways, 
and never weary teaching her her own “ il- 
egant ” ones ! 

Many a richer and wiser bride has gone to 
her husband’s home without such a welcome as 
Peggy received at Daisy Farm ; many a 
mother has given away a son with no such re- 
turn of love to cheer her declining days as that 
in which Mammy Honey now rejoiced, and for 
which she praised God in prayer and song, and 
thank-offerings to every beggar she could find. 
And the thatch, which she declared was ‘‘just 
full o’ the prayers of centuries,” sheltered a 
happier family than did the lofty dome and 
wainscoted walls of Harpley Hall, — the seat of 


26 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


the gentleman who owned and neglected Killy- 
rooke, and the region between it and his fine 
mansion. 

Years wore on at Daisy Farm. The family 
had their sorrows, but they were hardly worth, 
the name. John had lost a donkey one year 
and a cow the next, and Mammy Honey was 
afflicted by “gapes’’ among her feathered 
family, beside having a pet lamb mangled and 
torn by the ferocious dog of the O’ Gorman 
boys. But Peggy’s trials were the sorest, 
while she had the least strength to endure 
them. Her careless neighbor across the way 
was constantly accusing the innocent creature 
of trying to outshine her in the neatness of her 
person and in the order of her household, — a 
thing easily done by any one. The neglected 
little ones, catching the spirit of their mother, 
felt at liberty to annoy her also. The big boys 
stoned her ducks, stole her Christmas turkeys, 
and turned their half-famished pigs into her 
cherished cabbage garden. But, according to 
her first resolution, she returned good for evil, 
and, with the sympathy of Mammy Honey, 


A HEW MISTBESS. 


27 


boro their insults with meekness and patience. • 
Once, sorely annoyed, she shed tears, when 
that old philosopher said, in soothing tones, 

“ It’s yer oiild mammy that knows, mavour- 
neen, how hard all this is to the flesh, for she’s 
gone through it for nigh half a cent’ry with 
the O’ Gormans in the grave and them alive ; 
and I can say this for my promise-keepin’ 
God, that so has He helped me through all 
these years that I never gave them back an 
angry word, or laid up one ha’ peth o’ re- 
vinge agin them, but always pitied them. And 
so I did, dear, till the pity turned to love, and 
in the end brought back love again. For 
when the ould mother o’ this man come down 
to death, it was I alone must smooth her pil- 
low and mix her drink, and I — Protestant 
though I was — must close her eyes in death. 
She remembered how patient I had borne with 
her, and this was all the way she had o’ asking 
my forgiveness. And if she had not it would 
ha’ been all the same, for Crod never forgets, 
jewel! Patience with them will bring heaps 
of heaven’s gold into yer own heart, and ye’ll ^ 


28 


GEMS OF THE BOG, 


find that even them is helpin’ ye on in the road 
to glory, by-and-by.” 

And under such wise instructions Peggy 
took up the cross which the old saint was 
about laying down, and moved meekly on. 

Now the cruel neighbor had one cause of 
boasting of which poor Peggy was very sensi- 
tive. She had, in her own words, “ nine as 
bulky childer as ye could find ony day at 
Blarney Pair.” Peggy had none, and John 
was fond of children even to a weakness. But 
the pure-hearted creature was resolved to turn 
even this bitter cup to one of sweetness, by her 
submission to God’s will, and her tenderness 
towards all little children. So, when her care- 
less neighbor was away from home, she would 
call in two or three of the youngest of the 
flock, and after treating them to clean faces, 
would feed them with her sweet bread and 
milk, and keep them till John’s return from 
the field, knowing how fond he was of chil- 
dren’s prattle. 

Once when “ the masther ” expressed pleas- 
ure at their frolicsome ways, she said, “ I’ll 


A NEW MISTRESS. 


29 


bring them over ony day, dear, to play with 
ye, but neither yer mother nor myself is plazed 
to have ye cross the street after them, nor yet 
to chat with their father as ye have o’ late ; ” 
for she had noticed that for the last few weeks 
O’Gorman had frequently called to him to 
come over and hear a letter from Jim, in 
“ Ameriky,” or to smoke a pipe with him. 
This was an unwonted civility which John 
had not power to refuse — indeed, he had 
not power to refuse anything to anybody. 
He had been held in by his stern father and 
his resolute mother from going among evil 
companions, but he had never yet learned to 
say “no” in his own name. And no man, 
however old he may be, is safe till he can do 
that. 


CHAPTER III. 


MAMMY HONEY, 


DARK day comes sooner or later to every 



Ja. dwelling. If no other shadow falls across 
its sunshine, death’s surely will, and sad in- 
deed is the home over which his wing broods. 

Mammy Honey was now nearing the end 
of her fourscore years. Her labors had been 
one by one relinquished ; her dairy was no 
longer inspected daily, the music of her flax- 
wheel had ceased, and lastly, the bright knit- 
ting-needles had been passed through the gray 
ball and laid away forever. But still her heart 
was fresh and warm, and therefore she had 
not outlived her usefulness ; there were yet 
some little acts of love which she could per- 
form for her children. 

But one night — a night never to be forgot- 
ten at Daisy Farm — she was prostrated by a 


30 


MAMMY HONEY. 


31 


sudden palsy, and became thenceforth like a 
helpless child in the care of Peggy. 

It’s a life’s load ye’a got now,” cried out 
her hard-hearted neighbor to Peggy, the morn- 
ing after this calamity. “ The Sheehans will 
get good pay out of ye now, for all the fine liv- 
ing ye've had there these last years! Och, 
but she’ll be a burden 1 ” 

“ 0, no, don’t say that, neighbor,” replied 
Peggy. “ It’s such a burden as I pray God 
to let me carry to the end o’ my days. If 
He’ll only spare her to me. I’ll be the thank- 
fulest child He has in all the wide world, and 
never weary o’ her day or night — the darlin’.” 

“ Ye know well that this is a widow’s curse 
that has fallen on the ould body, o’ course ? ” 
asked Biddy 0’ Gorman. 

‘‘ A curse fallen on her blissed head ? It 
can never be 1 ” replied Peggy, turning pale. 

“ Yis that same,” repeated Mrs. Biddy. 
“ It was this way : When John and my hus- 
band were b’ys, there cam’ along ould Bet Mig- 
houl tellin’ fortun’s, and as yer kitchen was 
the hugest in Killyrooke, she asked might the 


32 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


crowds come to her there. And Mammy 
Sheehan said, ‘ No deeds o’ darkness shall 
he done benath the roof through which prayer 
has risen night and morn for more nor a cen- 
tury.’ Then Bet was sore angered, and stand- 
ing in the road just fornint tlie door, she 
pulled off her cap and let her gray locks fly to 
the winds, while she prayed that Mammy 
Sheehan might, afore she died, lose the 
power to ask a drink o’ water, and that no 
child might ever after he horn in that cottage 
again — and so there hav’n’t — and worse 
nor all, that her heart might be broken by 
the child she had that time, — that’s John.” 

‘‘ What, not my darlin’ John ? ” cried 
Peggy, leaning against the donkey-post for 
support. 

“ Yis, that same,” replied Biddy, . “ and 
then she prayed, too, that the son o’ them 
who did resave her in — that’s my husband — 
might have as many childer as there war 
moons in the year, and thim all grow to be 
lords and ladies ! ” and the cruel woman held 
up her rosy infant before Peggy, and then 


MAMMY HONEY. 


33 


pressed it to lier breast, casting, as she did 
so, a look of triumph at the terrified listener. 

“ The curse about no more childer in the 
cottage has come true, then ; and now the 
palsy will forbid the ould body to ask water, 
and the other one about John,. — well, well, 
there’s no tellin’ what a man will come to, 
till he’s safe in his grave ! ” added she. 

“ 0, Biddy, ye scare the life out o’ me,” 
cried Peggy, and then she rushed, pale and 
breathless, towards the cottage. The rasping 
tones of Biddy’s voice had pierced the little 
room where Mammy Honey lay in her weak- 
ness, and she cried, as Peggy entered, “ Come 
here, flower o’ my heart ! Surely, yer fear o’ 
a sinful woman is not greater nor your trust 
in God ! His blissing rested on this cottage 
long years after I smoothed the dying pillow 
o’ poor Bet in the workhouse, and will yet 
rest here if ye ’bide in His love. The lack o’ 
childer is sometimes the lack o’ sorrow, and 
God knows best where to sind them. Then, 
the last evil word she spoke — about my J ohn 
— 0, Peggy, if he goes asthray when I’m no 


3 


34 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


longer here to hould him in, it’ll be because o’ 
the evil in his heart, and not for her curse; 
for she knew no more o’ the futur’ nor ye do. 
He’s powerful o’ body, but he’s wake o’ will, 
Peggy, and he’s fearful forgetful o’ his Maker. 
Watch him, and pray for him, dear, when 
Pm at rest. Pve.laid down that burden now, 
and though his feet may slide sometimes, I 
know he will be brought in at the last.” 

Harvest was drawing on, and John Sheehan 
had his reapers all engaged; and an uncouth 
and famished-looking set they were, gathered 
from the road where they were begging for 
work, as starving men beg for bread. 

John was full of business, and of joy, too ; 
for the harvest was very heavy and the weath- 
er fine. “ Peggy, dear,” he said, “ one pair o’ 
hands can never fade this host o’ men, and 
tind on the dairy, and wait on the Mammy 
Honey. Now, dear, let us call in a nurse to 
mind her, or ye’ll destroy yerself before this 
hard season is over.” 

Mammy Honey heard this from her little inner 
room. Her will was as strong as ever, and so 


MAMMY JIONEY. 


35 


was liis obedience to it. “ No, John,” she 
cried, “ ye can niver take away the child God 
sent me in my old age, to fade your men. 
Ye can call in somebody to do your rough 
work, and pay her for it ; hut I can not buy 
such love and tinderness as Peggy’s with 
gold ; and the life would just go out o’ me 
if I lost the sight o’ her dear eyes. ’ Bide 
by your poor failin’ mother, Peggy, dear,” she 
cried imploringly. 

“ So I will, darlin’,” replied the gentle Peg- 
gy, “ though the rapers should starve for it. 
Better the mildew fall on the grain than ye be 
neglected that has been every other body’s 
sarvant in sickness. And more nor that, it’s 
a small while only that I’ll have ye, and I 
grudges every hour that I’m losin’ o’ yer com- 
pany. It’s not an hour agonc since yon bright 
Nan O’Gorman sprang over the stile, begging 
would I suffer her to come in and hilp me 
through the harvest. She says it’s a sorry 
life she lades at home, betwane the abuse o’ 
her mother and the throuble o’ the childer. 
She’s a fair, pleasant-voiced cretur, and it’s a 


36 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


pity no one takes her by the hand to save her. 
I’d a mind to ax ye might I bid her in to the 
kitchen for ten days ; but then the thought o’ 
her mother, and the fearful scarin’ she gave 
me about yon beggar’s curse come over me, 
and I hadn’t power to be spakiii’ their name.” 

“ No, no, my jewel, that will never do ! ” re- 
plied Mammy Honey. “ There’s evil blood 
in the veins o’ the whole race. They tri- 
umphed over me when the hand o’ the Lord 
touched me. The sun could not shine on the 
harvest if the reapers as gathered it war fed 
by an O’Gorman, nor ” 

Here Mammy Honey stopped suddenly, and 
throwing up her hands as if startled by her 
own words, cried, “ Alas, alas, childer ! what am 
I saying ? Is this the spirit o’ Him that spint 
His last breath prayin’ for his inemies ? Is 
this all tlie meetness I have for the home I’m 
reachin’ after, and whose doors is just opening 
to let me in ? Is there more hatred and revinge 
in my heart, now that I stand on the brink o’ 
Jordan and see the promised land, than when 
I was far back in the highways o’ life ? Have 


MAMMY HONEY. 


37 


I no luiiigeriii’ after their salvation, and no 
longin’ to meet them where foes cannot meet ? 
Woe’s me ! Now can I cry onr in spirit, ‘ Who 
shall deliver me from the body o’ this death ? ’ 
I thought I Avas done with sin ; but oh, the 
evil one holds on to God’s own with a pow- 
erful grasp ! He’d triumph now could he but 
bring down me that he’s had so many battles 
with ; but he’ll niver do it, for Him that has 
redeemed me has said, ‘ None shall pluck them 
out of my hands.’ I’ll show Satan that 
though liesh and heart is failin,’ I’m yet able 
to withstand him, and to war agin the flesh 
too. John, go across the street and bid in 
that poor uncared for girl ; and who knows 
but God will ’ low Peggy to hape coals o’ fire 
on their heads by making her a thrifty, mod- 
est and honest woman? She war a pretty 
baby — Nan — and a fair-faced child, till the 
brazen look o’ the mother crept into her eyes. 
And now go awhile to your work, dears, and 
let me be alone with God.” 

The next day, the bright, careless Nan was 
installed in Peggy’s kitchen ; and although 


38 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


she fell far below the good woman’s standard 
of neatness and modesty, she surprised her by 
her quickness and her readiness to learn. 

Peggy’s heart was full of excuses for the 
untrained child, now almost a woman, and she 
checked with real kindness all grumbling and 
complaints from John. Paddy Mannon, who 
confessed that he hated ‘‘ with most unchrist- 
ian hatred every O’ Gorman, dead, livin’ or yet 
unborn,” patronizingly admitted that she was 
the least vicious of tlie name. After awhile, 
John seemed amused by her wild, sprightly 
ways, and even Mammy Honey asked for little 
attentions at her hand, and addressed her 
gently, as, “ Nanny, my child,” and was grat- 
ified by Peggy’s forbearance with her. 


CHAPTER IV. 


PADDY MANNON. 

T he harvest was gathered in, or “ stacked,” 
and immense heaps of peat in the yard pro- 
mised light and warmth for the coming winter. 
The heavy work of the farm being over, Paddy 
Mannon was at liberty to attend fairs ” and 
races, and to make his annual visit to his 
wife, “ a most ondustrioiis young woman, who 
provided for herself and child intirely by 
begging, and never bothered him at all no 
more nor if he war a young b’y without a 
wife.” 

Meg Mannon’s home was a dilapidated hut 
on the roadside, many miles from Killyrooke. 
She had a field of operation too productive to 
leave even for a husband. Mammy Honey had 
offered her work when she was first married, 
but she declined it, saying, “ I was brouglit up 


40 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


a beggar, misthress, and I understand my oon 
business better than another one’s. ‘ Let the 
shoemaker stick to his last.’ I’ll just bide 
where I am, and visit Paddy at whiles o’ 
leisure.” 

Meg’s home* was not as good as a thrifty far- 
mer’s cow-house. A woolen coverlet, the gift 
of Mammy Honey, supplied the missing door. 
A barrel, sawn asunder, served for chairs, and 
a whole one, with a rough board across it, for 
a table. A sack, filled with straw and covered 
with plenty of warm blankets, composed a bed 
seldom visited by care for the morrow. The 
walls, through which the light peeped, were 
ornamented by pictures ; one of the Virgin and 
Holy Child, another representing the benevo- 
lent St. Patrick banishing serpents from 
Ireland, and a third, portraying a fat monk, 
bareheaded and barefooted, beating, most un- 
mercifully, some half-dozen sinners, whose race 
and sex must remain forever a mystery. 

Meg Mannon was a fine specimen of a 
prosperous Irish beggar, and was, on the whole, 
a proud and happy woman, having nothing 


PADDY MANNON. 


41 


to do but to walk from parish to parish, fol- 
lowed by little Pat, and receive the gifts of 
those who “ owed her a living.” She carried 
her treasures all with her, and so had no keys 
to turn and no robbers to fear. To add to her 
happiness, Peggy always sent her a little sup- 
ply of luxuries by Paddy, and Mammy Honey 
never forgot warm stockings for her boy. 
Paddy presented her with a bright calico gown 
once a year, and took her, arrayed in it, to a 
“ fair.” Meg never felt any degradation from 
her business, but on the contrary was proud and 
boastful, saying that she was young and strong, 
and could walk on a wager with any woman in 
Ireland, and had ‘‘ the lovingest husband and 
the rosiest child ” in it ; and then asked, “ Is 
it any wonder that Pm' a con tint and happy 
woman ? ” 

Two or three times a year, her business 
arrangements brought her to Killyrooke, 
whither, as tlie way was long, she bore little 
Pat on her back. At these times she was 
allowed to ‘‘keep house” for a week in an 
old cow-shed of “ Masther Sheehan,” on con- 


42 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


dition that no fire was lighted and no pipe 
smoked within five rods of it. And with such 
a life Meg was satisfied, and looked no more 
into the realities of the future than if she had 
not been an immortal being. She paid her fees 
to the church, went to mass when she had any 
thing new to exhibit, and confessed her sins 
once a year to secure a Christian burial. After 
that she was easy, throwing all responsibility 
on the priest. Nor was Meg alone in this ; 
with the same stupidity does Rome curse all 
her lowly children. She blindfolds them, that 
they do not see the light ; and those of a purer 
faith look on and cry, “ The bandages can 
never be removed from their eyes.” But few, 
alas, take hold with vigorous hand to try what 
can be done. While, however, the mass of the 
people in that corrupt church are at ease in 
their bonds, there are some there struggling 
in their fetters, and reaching out for the light 
of life. 

Paddy and Meg had one only ambition unful- 
filled — it was to go to America, where they 
fancied beggars laid up fortunes and lived in 


PADDY MANNON. 


43 


fine stone houses. They were always planning 
a fund to pay their passage. The first farthing, 
however, had never been laid aside for it, 
although Paddy talked of tlie “ passage-money 
as if it were all ready in the bank, waiting to 
be called for. He enjoyed the dream of future 
grandeur more than most men do the reality ; 
and neither toil, poverty, nor yet separation 
from those he loved, had power to dim the sun- 
shine in his light heart. He had as little care 
for the morrow as the birds of the air or the 
lilies of the field. But this was not the result 
of faith ; for, after all the labor dear Mammy 
Honey had expended on him from childhood 
up, she was forced to confess at last that “ poor, 
foolish Paddy lived like the beast o’ the field, 
forgetting that there was a God above him.” 

When this saint-like old woman lay on her 
bed and felt that her work for souls was nearly 
done, she called Paddy to her and recounted 
the mercies of God to him during the long 
years he had dwelt under her roof, begging 
him to be wise and repent while it was called 
to-day, lest he should be cut off in his sins. 


44 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


Whist, noo, misthress dear,” he replied ; 
“ it will do for ye, whose time is yer own, to be 
readiii’ and prayin’ half yer daylight. The 
likes o’ me has to do it all up of a Sunday. 
When I puts on a clane shirt and shaves me, 
then I says my prayers as well as the best o’ 
thim Noo, dear, there’s scores o’ boys about 
here that tells their beads twice a day, and yet 
them same will swear, and drink, and steal, 
and lie. And yersilf knows that poor Paddy, 
that prays only of a Sunday, is as sober, and 
honest, and loving as the daylight aboove us. 
Noo what better would I be if I was confissing 
to the priest and mutterin’ over the beads half 
my time ? ” 

“ Paddy, Paddy, my poor lad ! it’s not con- 
fessing to man^ nor yet counting yer beads that 
will save yer soul. What will ye do when 
death comes ? ” 

Och, dear heart, thin Pll pray as fast as 
any o’ thim ! I always does whin I’m in 
trouble. Don’t ye mind the night my ould 
granny died at the workhouse, how I prayed ? 
I had the beads in my hand all night, and if 


PADDY MANNON. 


45 


I’d be to fall asleep for a minute, sure I’d 
spring up and go at it again, fear her ghost 
would come to me ! ” 

Mammy Honey groaned. “ Oh, Paddy, it’s 
nigh quarter a cent’ry since I took ye in hand, 
and this is all I’ve accomplished for ye ! Sure 
I’m aither a blind lader o’ the blind, or a 
most unprofitable sarvant ! ” 

“ Och, no, Misthress Honey, ye’re nather o’ 
them ; the fault o’ my not heedin’ yer religion 
is on the head o’ his riverence, for he watches 
me as the cat watches the mouse, and tells me 
if I’m a ‘ turn-coat,’ that the ghosts o’ all my 
Catholic aiichesters will come down upon me 
and tear me to pieces, and I’ll lose my soul 
then — sure ! ” 

“ Paddy, my poor man,” replied his mis- 
tress, “ ye are fast in the net o’ Satan, and 
how can I die and leave ye there ? ” 

Don’t tell me that ; I’ll be ’feared to go to 
my bed alone for a month ; for I’m e’en more 
scared o’ yon Satan, nor o’ the ghosts thim- 
selves ! But keep ye aisy, dear heart, for I’va 


46 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


no doubt I’ll get into heaven some way. If liis 
riverence is chating me, I’ll be let in for yer 
sake. Ye’ve done good enough to get yer- 
silf and Masther John, and mesilf all safe 
through; and as for the young misthress — 
there could be no excuse for keeping her out 
at all, at all ; for she’s as hooly now as any in 
it.” 

Such were the low ideas Paddy entertained 
of heaven and the way of life, after all the 
efforts which had been made to enlighten his 
darkness. Nor was his a solitary case ; he 
was surrounded by men and women who lived 
as they listed, and who trusted for eternal hap- 
piness to their own good works — a poor array 
— , and in the prayers of the saints and the 
Virgin, while they were as ignorant of the plan 
of salvation as are the far-off heathen. 

“ Oh, Paddy,” said Iiis mistress, ‘‘ I could 
lay down my life for* the salvation o’ poor, 
blind Killyrooke, includin’ Jolin and yersilf! 
But that wouldn’t save ye. Ye must repent o’ 
yer sins and believe in the Lord Jesus for yer* 


PADDY MANNON. 


47 


selves. I can no more do it for you than the 
priest, for I’m a poor sinner, like himself and 
ye.” 

“ Well, dear,” replied Paddy, a little 
piqued; ‘‘ as to bein’ such fearful sinner — 
ivery one must spake for hisself — and I’m 
just sure Tm not quite evil yet. Lookin’ at 
mysilf beside the other boys, I’m a raal da- 
cent-behaved lad, and desarve as respictable a 
funeral as oiiy o’ thim — yis, and respictabler 
too ! ” This last sentence was uttered with 
some sharpness, as if his funeral arrangements 
were being then made, and did not meet his 
approbation. But suddenly remembering that 
in this one item of expenditure, if in no other, 
he was independent of his master, he added, 
with a smart toss of the head, “ I desarves a 
fine wake and a funeral, and I’ll get them too ; 
for Meg and me has made a promish together, 
that whichever of the twos dies first shall be 
buried fine, if it takes the livin’ one the rest o’ 
her days to pay for it ! Then ye think, mis- 
thress, that not a Catholic body will be let in 


48 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


to heaven at all ? ” he added, returning to the 
first subject. 

“ No, Paddy, I think no such thing. I be- 
lave if ever my eyes see ‘ the King in His 
beauty,’ I shall see beside him poor Dennis 
Burke, who bore his sufferings so patient, and 
blissed God in the furnace, and died with the 
name o’ Jesus on his lips. In a dark place 
Dennis had spied a great light, and made after 
it, and walked in it. But the cloud was so 
thick about him he did not see how to get 
clear out o’ the Romish church on earth. 
But he’s all right now, where the name o’ a 
church is o’ no avail, but where Jesus has 
saved all who trusted in Him, from the errors 
and blindness of arth. And more than ould 
Dennis is safe in Christ, while havin’ a name 
in yer church. There’s good Mammy Crogin, 
that spun for me last fall ; the two o’ us had 
just a little heaven together a talkin’ o’ the 
love o’ God, and a wishin new days for poor 
Ireland. And some o’ the holiest of men lived 
and died in the Catholic church.” 


PADDY MANNOK. 


49 


“ Ocli, then, sure Tm safe in it ! ” cried 
Paddy, quite relieved to find his mistress had 
sympathy with any of his faith. 

“ Oh, no, for ye are not fike them ones, 
Paddy. They saw the errors of Rome, though 
they saw not the way of deliverance from her, 
but came themselves into the gospel road, the 
only one that can lade us to God. Even the 
pope hasn’t power to bar the way from his 
children, if they seek it with a true heart. But 
go now to yer work, lad. I can only pray for 
ye and yer masther, as I have iver done, that 
ye may be drawn by an iverlasting love ; for 
ye will never come o’ yerselves ; John is too 
wise in his own eyes to take a guide, and ye 
are too ignorant to know yer need o’ one ! 
Heaven help ye both, poor lads ! ” 

This old saint seemed one born out of place 
and out of season ; one who, had she been 
placed with hands unfettered, where she had 
helpers, would have done a mighty work 
among the lowly. She was a Bible saint, hav- 
ing as her only other books. Pilgrim’s Pro- 
gress, Boston’s Fourfold State, and Baxter’s 


4 


50 


GEMS OF THE BOG, 


Saints’ Rest. She had none of the appliances 
of our day and our land, wherewith to bring 
the truth before men. No books, no tracts, no 
prayer-meetings ; but, for all this, she kept the 
enemy at bay in her own hamlet, and foiled 
his efforts many a time at Cloynmally. 


CHAPTER Y. 


A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 

HEN the autumn winds brought the sere 



T V leaves from the branches, the strong 
staff and the beautiful rod on which the honor 
of the Sheehans had leaned so long was bro- 
ken. The setting of Mammy Honey’s sun was 
marked by a brilliancy and beauty surpassing 
even that of her pure and glowing every-day 
life. The peace of heaven shone through her 
clear eyes, and her brow, long deeply lined, 
grew smooth and fair like that of a child. 
Her blanched locks fell from beneath the 
broad frill of her cap in waves of silver, as 
slie sat pillowed in her rude easy chair before 
the little glass window. Her soul had seemed 
for days floating on a sea of peace. No fear 
of death, no desire for life cast a shadow over 


51 


52 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


her joy. Her voice, long unstrung, had re- 
gained its old melody, and she cheered her 
heart with hymns and snatches of the Psalms as 
paraphrased for the Scottish church. Her chil- 
dren, while they moved about their toil, heard 
her singing, as she neared the cold river, — 

** The hour of my departure’s come, 

I hear the voice that calls me home ; 

And now, 0 Lord, let sorrow cease. 

And let Thy servant die in peace ! ’ ’ 

Yet if the Holy One felt the tempter’s power 
in His mortal conflict, is it strange that some 
of His followers are forced to cry with Him, 
“ This is the hour and the power of dark- 
ness ” ? Is it not enough that the disciple 
be as his Master ; that the same thorns pierce 
his feet ; that the same spear wound his heart ; 
and that the same vinegar, mingled with gall, 
be put to his lips ? Blessed be fellowship with 
Jesus, even though it be the fellowship of 
suffering ! 

Need we, then, wonder that a transient cloud 
shadowed the peace of this blessed old saint ? 


A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 53 

It disturbed her vision of her children’s 
future and her hopes of Ireland, leaving her 
own prospects still glorious. What true 
mother can be satisfied with heaven for her- 
self alone ? Mammy Honey was going to her 
Father’s kingdom ; but she wanted John, and 
Paddy, and all Ireland, and indeed, the whole 
world, to follow her there. For Peggy she 
had no fears, as she said, “Heaven would not 
be complate without Aer.” 

“ Mavourneen,” she called to Peggy, on 
the last day of her life, “ come now and let 
me lane my head on yer lovin’ bussum. Call 
John, too, darlin’, for this is the wakeness o’ 
failin’ natur’ ! I’m just now puttin’ foot into 
the cold waters, but I see the horses and the 
chariots waitin’ me beyond ; so I know that I 
shall sup ere break o’ day with Him I’m sick 
o’ heart to see ! True, the arrow is in my 
breast ; but like Christiana’s token, it is pintod 
with love. I hears the bells beginnin’ to ring 
in heaven, rejoicin’ over another poor sinner 
come off conqueror through grace. But I’ve 
a partin’ word on the bank of Jordan for ye 


54 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


twos — my darlins’. I would be to warn ye 
that the diviVs not dead., but still goes roarin’ 
about ; and if iver be strives to damage ye, 
it’ll be by putting a space between yer two 
hearts ! I’ve no fears o’ ye’ Peggy, my jewel, 
for ye have even now the meek and lowly 
sperit o’ the lovin’ Master. But Oh, John, 
John ! ye are all taken up with the grain, 
and the peat, and the pratees, and the dear 
bastes, and the powltry ! I’m afeared ye’ll let 
the very mercies o’ God lade ye astray from 
Him till ye lose yer soul ! Peggy, love, 
watch him every hour and keep a fast hould 
on him, and bring him safe to me at last! 
Til expect that o’ ye^ darlin\ And now I’d be 
to give my partin’ orders. I had a vision, 
dears, days agone, that drank up my sperit 
with anguish ; and I must tell it ye afore the 
trumpet sounds for me, that I may put ye on 
yer guard.” 

“No evil can come on this house while the 
thatch hangs to the rutf. Mammy,” sobbed 
Peggy ; “ there’s been that many prayers sent 
to Heaven from it ! ” 


A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 


55 


Peggy, the righteousness of the father will 
niver avail for the son ! John must make no 
trust in that, or he will lose his soul. I fear, 
I fear he is dead while he has a name to live ! 
But now aboot yon vision : I had the wakeness 
in me- head for a bit, and then I saw crawlin’ 
slowly over the floor o’ the kitchen a sarpint ! 
Betimes it sprung up and thrust its pizen tooth 
into Peggy’s heart o’ love ! And worse nor 
all, John, I thought ye looked on and niver 
lifted a hand to give it a blow. Then it 
turned to go, and I saw it had a human face, — 
shall I tell ye? — the face o’ the O’ Gorman 
gerl ! Me heart died within me, and I hadn’t 
the power left in me to scream out to ye. 
But I thought Paddy Mannon — poor, foolish, 
lovin’ Paddy — struck it a blow with his huge 
fist and killed it entirely.” 

It war only a drame, darlin,’ and no vision 
at all,” cried Peggy, trembling and turning 
pale. “John’s all love and full o’ care o’ 
me ! ” 

“ Do ye think,” said John, “ that yer son 
would iver stand by and see the light o’ his 


56 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


eyes touched by a sarpint or ony other onholy 
thing ? Iiidade no ! There’s nather man nor 
thing in all Killyrooke would dare give her an 
oncivil word ; for betwane Paddy and mesilf 
we’d soon make an eend o’ him ! Ye’re 
throubled now, dear ; sthrive to rest a bit.” 

“ There’s a long rest just' beyont for me, 
John ; I must give my last breath to ye and 
Peggy in counsel. Now promise me, ye son o’ 
a hooly man, that ye’ll go no more across to 
the O’ Gormans’, as I’ve seen ye doin’ o’ late. 
There’s too much whisky and too many evil 
words there. Ye cannot walk into the fire 
without bein’ burned, lad.” 

‘‘ It’s only the prattle o’ the childer that 
takes me there at all, mammy,” replied John. 

It's so lone and silent here ! ” 

“ And aren’t silence better nor brawlin’, 
man ? ” asked the mother. “ If God has sent 
no childer to comfort ye, thank Him He’s sent 
none to break yer hearts. And heed ye my 
words, John ; don’t ye fly in the face o’ the 
Almighty, for if ye do ye’ll be sorely baten 
in the contist. Send Nanny — Heaven pity 


A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM 57 

the cliild — home when I’m gone, and live ' 
yersilves like two tartle-doves till I see ye 
again.” 

For a little time Mammy Honey lay as if 
done with all below. Then she cried out, ‘‘ Oh, 
that God would pity Ireland, — poor, swate 
Ireland, bound in chains and darkness ! The 
men of God go to the far-off liathen, to the 
black man and the red man ; but who o’ them 
all pities my people, ground under the heel o’ 
the Man o’ Sin ! How can I die and leave 
them thus ! ” Then a smile passed over her 
pale face, and she whispered, “ When the isles 
of the sea shall be converted unto Thee, the 
dearest and the greenest o’ them all shall not he 
forgotten! Good night, jewels.” And she 
was not, for God had taken her. 

When the form of Mammy Honey was borne 
from the cottage to the little Presbyterian 
church in Cloynmally, all Killyrooke followed 
it. Many who had never entered a Protestant 
church before stole in there ; and such as 
dared not enter lest they might thereby lose 
their souls, stood without; wringing their 


58 


GEMS OF TEE BOG. 


hands, and howling out lamentations for her 
who had ‘‘ left a huge spot impty, and carried 
the heart o’ Killyrooke to the grave with 
her ! ” 

When the coffin had been lowered into the 
grave, the pastor of the little flock in Cloyn- 
mally seized this rare -opportunity of explain- 
ing to the poor people the way of salvation 
through Christ alone. He spoke of the holy 
life by which their dead friend had honored 
her faith among them, and through which she 
had now entered into rest. While he was yet 
speaking, a simple youth from Killyrooke, 
known there by no other name than “ the poor 
fool,” and who had a reputation for second 
sight, mounted the wall, and uttered a succes- 
sion of the most unearthly howls, till every 
eye was turned on him. “ Oohoul ! Oohoul ! 
Oohoul ! Bats, and owls and ravens ; the air 
is full o’ ’um ! This is the evil day for Daisy 
Farm and the Sheehans ! I seed a white 
dove perched on the coffin o’ Mammy Honey, 
and it followed her here ; and it’ll bide on her 
grave whin we’s are gone hoom ; and then it’ll 


A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 


59 


dio oil the turf above her, and never go back 
more to hover in peace over the cottage ! But 
owls, and bats and ravens will bide there, and 
clap their wings and hoot, and croak through 
the long black night that ’ll never be lifted off 
the place ! ” 

Then he clapped his hands and laughed 
loud and long, as he looked up to the heavens. 
“ Ocli, och ! ” he cried, “ but this same is the 
blessed day for herself that fed the beggars, 
and knit warm stockin’s for mesilf tliese nine 
years agone ! She shuk off her heresy like 
a varmint with her last brith, and bid John 
to tell o’t. I sees her now passin’ through the 
fires o’ purgatory, the first Slieehan that ever 
got through since heaven war built. And 
now, look I look ! she’s let in among the hooly 
— the only Protestant body in the hape ! ” 

Tlie people stood as if turned to stone by 
the ravings of the idiot, who was really more 
knave than fool. But John, whose pride was 
touched by this reflection on his family and his 
faith, forgot the decorum incumbent on him as 
a mourner. He stepped out from among the 


60 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


people, and cried, “ Hoot, there, poor crack- 
brain ! Go home and tell him that bid ye do 
this onchristian dade to broken hearts, that 
not a Sheehan ever lived on arth — mesilf ex- 
cepted — hut’s in heaven to day ! and tell him 
that whiles I’m the respictable man I am, na- 
ttier owls, bats nor ravens shall get lave to 
bide above my boom, nor yet will ye ever be 
fed there again. Away with ye ! ” 

Poor Peggy, who could not endure an- 
gry words, fell fainting with exhaustion and 
fear. Kind women gathered about her, say- 
ing, “Well may she sink now, poor body! 
Her hist friend’s in the grave. Did ever man’s 
mother get love like this from his wife 1 ” 

What hour in life so sad as the evening after 
the funeral of one beloved? John and Peggy 
sat in the deep shadow of the broad clay 
chimney-place, where the peat was smoking 
and smouldering, but neither spoke. She was 
nursing her grief, he laying plans to punish 
the poor fool. At length Nan O’ Gorman rose 
from the little casement where she had been 
sitting with her chin resting on her chubby 


A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 


61 


hands, gazing at the passers-by. She fell 
upon her knees before the fire, and began 
blowing the peat to light it. A sudden gleam 
fell across her face, and Peggy cried out, 
“ Quit blowing, Nanny, for I cannot bear ony 
light on my eyes this night, when Mammy 
Honey is lying in the dark, cold grave. I be- 
lieve my own heart lies with her, for I feel the 
damp and cold o’ the grave all aboot me ; ” 
and she shuddered fearfully. 

“It’s a huge cold ye’ve taken standin’ so 
long on the fresh-tamed artli, dear,” said 
Jolin. He rose and took down a coarse frieze 
cloak from the peg on which it hung, and was 
wrapping it about her, when she cried, “ 0, 
John, tliat is her cloak! How can ye touch it 
with thoughtless hands ! ” And burying her 
face in its folds, she kissed it again and again 
with floods of tears. “ Who’ll help me on to 
heaven now ? ” she sobbed. 

“ Don’t be breakin’ yer heart this way, jewel. 
Sure you’ve got me left,” said John tenderly. 

Peggy made no reply, but with a deep groan, 
she closed her eyes, and laid her pallid cheek 


62 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


against the cold clay chimney, and clasping 
her hands, whispered, ‘‘ 0, God of Mammy 
Honey ! will Ye not pity her child ? ” 

A heavy step was now heard on the door- 
stone, and a merry well-known voice cried out, 
“ Safe hoom again and wilcome to ye, Paddy 
Mannon ! and that gentleman, with a bundle 
on a stick over his shoulder, leaped in with a 
whoop and a comical grimace. He had just 
returned from his yearly visit to Meg, and was 
wholly ignorant of the great sorrow at the 
cottage. He stepped on tip-toe to the inner 
door, and peeped in, hoping to cheer Mammy 
Honey with the sight of his honest face. All 
was quiet there, and in perfect order. Paddy 
turned round, and seeing Peggy’s ever busy 
hands folded helplessly on her lap, the truth 
burst upon his mind, and he cried out, “ It’s 
surely not dead that she is ! ” 

Yis, yis, Paddy, dead and alone in the 
churchyard ; and why didn’t God let me go 
with her* when the heart o’ me is dead too ? ” 
cried Peggy, with a fresh burst of tears. 
Paddy dropped the stick and bundle, and falb 


A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 


63 


iii^ down between John and Peggy on bis 
knees, covered bis face with bis great rough 
hands, and gave way also to a flood of tears. 
Soon he broke out into a wild Irish wail, and 
chanted the praise of his lost mistress in a sort 
of rhyme, for which he was very famous in the 
region, often being sent for to ‘‘ howl out 
varses ” over the dead whose relatives were no 
poets. , He ran over her history and her vir- 
tues, from her childhood till the day she took 
possession of him. at the work-house. As a 
specimen of Paddy’s poetical genius we will 
give the portion of the wail referring to him- 
self : — 


And from the workhouse once she tuk 
Poor Paddy Mannon — that was luck! 
And rarcd him uid a splindid youth, 

Haped full o’ vartue and o’ truth ; 

Until he’d be to marry Meg, 

Who — rather far than work — would beg; 
She tached her how to spin and knit. 

But work she wouldn’t, not a bit! 

And when that silver mornin’ dawned 
On which my little Pat was horned. 

She filled poor Paddy’s heart with joy. 

By askin’ God to bliss the boy.” 


64 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


He told of her holy life, in which she “ fed 
beggars, sought after peace, and loved her 
iiiimies better nor herself;” and how, when 
‘‘ the old masther ” was taken from her she 
thanked God still that Himself was left to 
her ; ” he told how “ she walked down quite 
contiiit into the grave, satisfied that she’d find 
hiven beyont,” which, he added, ‘‘ she did, too, 
and is there to-night.” Each sentence ended 
with a wild howl peculiar to himself, which 
no one could imitate. 

This duty over, poor, thoughtless Paddy 
seated himself, and was soon doubly comforted 
by a bowl of bread and milk, and by the 
announcement that Mammy Honey had be- 
queathed him the blue deal chest containing 
the wardrobe of the deceased Daddy Sheehan. 

Och ! but I wish this same had happened 
afore I wint ; Meg would ha’ been that proud 
to go with me, dressed up in that honest 
man’s Sunday coat, to Blarney Fair,” he 
exclaimed. 

‘‘ 0, Paddy, Paddy ! ” cried Peggy, mourn- 
fully, ‘‘ ye surely did not wish her sooner 


A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 


65 


gone ? Lave yer foolish talking now, and go 
to bed like a good lad.’’ 

“ To bed in the loft is it, misthress dear ? ” 
cried Paddy. ‘‘ Sure there’s not gold enough 
in all Ireland to timpt me up there alone. 
She’ll be coming back oot o’ her grave to 
watch do I say my prayers. ’Deed, I’ll sit 
in this chair till the marciful daylight comes, 
with the peat fire for protiction.” He started 
suddenly, and turned towards the inner door, 
which, being on a crack, creaked on its hinges. 
“ Och, but I think I saw her there now, 
shakin’ her head at me for the small drop o’ 
whisky I drank with Mike Troobrig on my 
way home from the Fair. I’m that scared o’ 
lier that I’ll niver touch another drop while 
tlie life’s in me ! I’ve heard often that dead 
people sees ivery thing a body does,” and cast- 
ing another cautious glance at the door, he 
cried, ‘‘ Ilooly Mother Mary, protict me ! ” 

“ If the blissed saint could come back and 
sit down here beside us, you surely would not 
be afeared o’ her,” said Peggy. “ When she 
did only good on this sinful arth, she’d do 


5 


66 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


no evil now that she’s seen God and is like 
Him. If I could but see the shadow of her 
here, my poor sick heart would lape up for joy. 
But I’ll never, never see her more — unless, 
please God, I grow holy enough to go where 
she’s singiii’ to-night. But 0, John, how can 
she sing there if slie knows that her Peggy’s 
heart is breaking down here ? John, John, 
will you strive to help me on and to seek God 
yerself ? ” 

“ Ay, will I, darlin’, and ye’ll see we’ll get 
on well in the way. I’ll set out anew, dear ; 
I’ll give two pound ten — ” 

‘‘ Cease telling what ye’ll do, and think on 
what’s been done for ye, darlin’. Ye never 
did a thing in yer life that would help ye on to 
heaven. What is our poor righteousness, 
John, to recommind us to God ? Let us not 
be like the Papists, to trust in our own 
deeds.” 

Paddy sat with his beads in his hand, and 
nodded in the chair by the fire all night, occa- 
sionally calling out, “ Are you there, Masther 
John ? ” and being assured that protection was 


A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 


G7 


at liaiid, lie would doze again. After that 
John hired a neighbor’s boy to sleep with him 
for weeks in the loft. 


CHAPTER YI. 


Conflict and Yictory 


TTTHEN the cottage was again restored to 
f f its old order and quiet — that order and 
quiet so painful to a bereaved heart — Peggy 
had ‘‘ not work enough to keep the grief 
down.” When she folded her hands to rest, 
she suffered ‘‘ such a hunger after the blissed 
one ” that she grew nearly wild. She felt a 
constant impulse to run to Cloynmally and lie 
down on the grave ; and her prayer was not 
that God would sanctify lier bereavement, but 
that He would take her “ jist now and without 
delay to Himself and to the darlin’ one.” 

‘‘ Come, jewel,” said John, one day, “ye’ve 
wept the full o’ a bucket o’ tears ; now cheer 
up and see if ye can’t fill the place o’ Mammy 
Honey in Killyrooke. Ye’ve always been a 
great sheep,” he added, looking at her proudly. 


CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 


69 


“ and it did well to have ye so when there was 
a strong mother in the cottage ; but now that 
ye are the mistress o’ the house, ye must put 
on a brave face or I’ll be left without a woman 
at all ! ” 

So Peggy — poor, faithful heart — set out in 
real earnest to keep her sorrow down, that she 
might be a good, obedient and cheerful wife. 
She now, according to Mammy Honey’s re- 
quest, called Nannie to her and told her as 
gently as possible that she had no further need 
of her services, and soothed her disappoint- 
ment — for Nan thought herself settled for 
life — by giving her a little silver brooch 
which Mammy Honey had worn in her maid- 
enhood. “ Nannie, child,” she said, “ remem- 
ber when you go from me that there’s a God 
aboove ye ; and so never let one onpure 
thought ’bide in the heart that beats under 
Mammy Honey’s brooch. None but a hooly 
heart iver yet throbbed beneath it ; and only 
for its reminding ye o’ her, and so, may be, 
ladin’ ye to her God, makes me part with it 


70 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


at all.” And she kissed the little pin ten- 
derly. 

Nan grasped the trifle eagerly, expressed 
regret that there was not a red stone in it, 
fastened it into the bosom of her linsey-woolsey 
gown, and stepped up to Peggy’s nine-by- 
twelve looking-glass to admire herself. 

Turning her head this way and that to get a 
full view of her comeliness, she replied, “ One 
thing is sure ; if ye won’t keep me here I’ll go 
over to Mike Grogan’s, for he wants a bar- 
maid. He says my red cheeks is just the 
things to draw in guests o’ market days, and 
he’ll give me ten shillings a year more nor the 
last one had. She’s destroyed entirely by the 
small pox, ye know.” 

‘‘ Don’t go there, Nannie. It’s but a rough 
place at best, and what with fightin’, and 
pitchin’ coppers, and bettin’ on donkeys o’ 
market days, it’s growin’ to be a curse to the 
town it’s in. Take a place at sarvice, or else 
’bide at home, knitting and mending for the 
childer,” said Peggy. 


CONFLICT AND VICTORY, 


71 


* ‘‘ I’ll do iiather one nor yet the other,’’ re- 
plied Nan, pertly, “for I’m my own masther 
now.?’ 

With several other gifts and words of ad- 
vice, which were thrown away on Nan, Peggy 
parted with her the next day, and saw her set 
off — without crossing the road to speak to her 
mother — for Drougally, where Mike Grogan 
kept a poor inn for drovers, under the style of 
“ The Bnll’s-horn’s Inn.” 

Once more alone, Peggy sat down to Mam- 
my Honey’s little flax-wheel. But the wheel 
caught and would not turn, and the thread 
knotted and snarled so that she could make 
no progress. Ah, it takes a happy, or at least 
an easy heart, to do effectually the lowliest 
work 1 She put the wheel away in the inner 
room and seated herself, knitting in hand. 
She looked around the kitchen which had been 
for years so like a palace to her ; but now the 
smoky rafters frowned on her, and the whole 
place looked poor, empty and gloomy. She 
glanced within her own heart, but all there 
was blackness and darkness. Dropping her 


72 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


hands helplessly at her side, she cried, “ Hi^^- 
enly Father, had ye no pity left for yer poor 
orphan t Peggy, when ye took the blissed Mam- 
my Honey away where ye had millions more 
like her, and left the world without a one, and 
my heart broke in two pieces ? Sure, ye can 
niver love me, or ye would ha’ spared me this, 
by takin’ me along with her ! ” 

And then the hitherto patient and submis- 
sive woman cherished hard thoughts of God, 
and doubted not only His mercy but His 
power. She was for a season in the hands 
of the tempter and left to buffet with liim 
alone. Awful thoughts, of which she had 
never before dreamed, came rushing madly 
over her hitherto placid mind, like deafening 
torrents. “ Perhaps, after all,” she thought, 
“ there is no God and no immortality. Per- 
haps Mammy Honey, and the minister, and all 
the church have been deceived, and the dear 
heart has slipped out of life — like her own 
pet lamb that died in the spring — to lie sinse- 
less forever ! ” The bare suspicion against 
God filled her soul with anguish ; and falling 


CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 


73 


on her knees she shrieked ont, “ I’m undone, 
undone ! I’ve grieved the Holy Spirit by 
castin’ away my confidence, which hath great 
recompense o’ reward ; and now I’ve lost God 
as well as Mammy Honey, and I’m goiii’ 
wild ! ” 

Just then the words of the dying saint came 
to mind, “ Remember, dears, the divil is not 
dead yet ; ” and she realized his presence, 
tempting her to curse God and die, and trem- 
bled as a young lamb in the fangs of a wolf. 
Waving her hand behind her, she cried out in 
her agony, “ ‘ Get thee behind me, Satan,’ for I 
have not the power o’ Him ye trifled with and 
lied to on the mountain ! I cannot fast forty 
days and forty nights ; Lord, bind him hand 
and foot, that he do not destroy me ! ” 

John was repairing ditches a little way from 
the cottage, and hearing Peggy’s cries, went in 
and found her prostrate on the cold floor. 
“ Rise up, there, darlin’,” he said. ‘‘ Ho ye 
pray all yer time? Why can’t ye let the 
dear jewel rest in her grave now, and be 
aisy ? ” 


74 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


“ Och, John, Mammy Honey’s loss is a small 
thing now ! I’ve got a linger throuble nor 
that on me ! ” she cried, turning her pale face 
up to him imploringly. 

“.What on arth can it be?” asked John, 
running to the door, and looking, involun- 
tarily, toward the cow-house and the sheep- 
fold, where his treasures were. “ Have we 
lost any body else ? ” 

“ Yes, John ; I’ve lost God ! ” cried the 
tempted woman. “ My soul’s in the dark, 
and the divil, that Mammy Honey had such 
sore battles with, is standi n’ afore me and 
hiding Him — if He’s here at all.” 

“ You’re losiii’ yer sinse, dear ! ” cried 
John. “ Cheer up, now, and I’ll get the 
donkey-cart and we’ll have a ride over to the 
widow Doane’s, and ye’ll carry her some o’ 
yer new honey ; and ye’ll come back bright 
eno’ ! ” 

“ John, I’ll never go to see any friend till I 
first find the Lord ; and if ye love me, lave me 
to myself till then. Could ye and Paddy do 
without me after dinner ? I’d fain spend the 


CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 


75 


laviii’s o’ this day alone in her room in fastin’ 
and prayer.” 

Fastin’ ? Sure, yer not turnin’ Papist, 
are yo ? ” asked John. 

“ Och, no, dear, but I’m seekin’ my lost 
Lord — Him whom my soul lovetli ; and sure, 
dear, eatin’ is o’ small account beside such 
business as that ! ” replied Peggy, solemnly. 

John looked at her wonderingly. His 
mother’s conflicts and triumphs had been 
matters of constant conversation, her religion 
being so woven in with her every-day life that 
the fruits of it, charity and patience, were 
visible to all about her. But Peggy had lived 
within herself, being always reserved on mat- 
ters of a spiritual nature, so that her speaking 
thus freely amazed him. 

‘‘ Well, take yer own way, wife,” he replied ; 
“ only don’t give yerself so to religion as to 
neglect the dairy and the poultry. The piousest 
time our mother ever had, she was as arnest 
about her business as ever. She said that 
livin’ near the Lord helped her better with her 


76 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


duty. And for that, itself, if no other, religion 
would be a fine thing in the world.’’ 

Peggy prepared the humble meal and served 
it as one whose spirit was far away. All being 
restored to neatness in the kitchen, she with- 
drew to the inner room, where the time-worn 
Bible lay on a rude little stand, covered with a 
clean linen towel ; and she was seen no more 
in the kitchen that night. 

In the morning John was wakened from a 
deep sleep by the voice of singing in the 
kitchen, where his good wife was busy prepar- 
ing the morning meal. 

“ Oh, for this love let rocks and hills 
Their lasting silence break ; 

And all harmonious human tongues 
The Saviour’s praises speak! ” 

“ Sure, that can never be ye, Peggy, tunin’ 
up this joyful way,” he said, as he entered the 
kitchen, over whose smooth clay floor the sun 
was now shining cheerily. 

“ Och, dear heart ! ” cried Peggy, coming 
forward to meet him and taking both his hands 


CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 


77 


ill lier own ; “ come and sit down till I ask ye 
a question. Did ye ever hear Mammy Honey 
say that a body could he ‘ born again ’ more 
tliaii once ? ” 

‘‘ Well, noo, I don’t mind that I did,” 
replied John, with an air of surprise, as he 
looked at Peggy’s face, which shone like an 
angel’s. ‘‘ Why, dear, what if she did ? ” 

‘‘ Why, then, if that can be so, Pve been 
twice ‘ born again ; ’ once when I was a lonely 
orphaiit at dear Farmer Doane’s, and now this 
last niglit again. And, John, look at me, and 
tell me if I’m the same Peggy ye saw breakin’ 
her heart these last days because God didn’t 
give up the rule o’ all things — even life and 
death — into her foolish hands ? ” 

“ I was niver great on thaology,” replied 
John, “ and if ye’d like. I’ll drive ye to Cloyii- 
mally to ask yon question o’ the minister to- 
morrow;” 

To-morrow ! I must walk the two miles 
as soon as my work is over, and call upon him, 
and good elder Peter, and them all, to bless 
and praise His holy name that He has revealed 


78 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


Himself to me above all my sins o’ doubt and 
distrust, and sent the divil off ashamed to his 
own place — ashamed b’ the mane sperit that 
bid him to pass by the strong soldiers o’ the 
cross to fight with a poor, weak and ignorant 
child like mesilf.” 

“ And will ye go alone, yerself, to the minis- 
ter’s house ? ” asked John ; for that was a 
stretch of courage in her for which he was not 
prepared. 

“ Indade will I, though I never made that 
bold before. Why, John, I would go into his 
pulpit if God bid me, to tell o’ His wondrous 
love — how He revaled Himself to me as the 
altogether lovely, the last night, when all the 
world but me was sleepin’. I think I’ll never 
have time to sleep more while I live, John ; 
a whole life o’ wakin’ hours is far too short to 
praise Him in'! Och, but blissed be His name, 
I’ll have a whole etarnity to finish in — but 
finished my praise can niver, niver be.” 

Paddy Mannon’s appetite was the token to 
him that breakfast was ready. He had drawn 
near the cottage and stood at the door, amazed 


CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 


79 


at the joyful animation of his mistress, usually 
so calm and silent. He entered and took his seat 
at the table, before the snowy potatoes and the 
savory herring. “ She’s been convarted into a 
new Misthress Honey,” he said to John. 
“ Sure, I never heerd her say the like o’ yon 
afore. What’s coome over her, that the tears 
is all dried and she a psalm singing ? ” 

“ Whist, Paddy,” said John. “ She’s got 
peace to her soul that ye could niver under- 
stand if I should strive to explain to ye.” Alas, 
the poor man did not himself understand 
Peggy’s sudden transition from anguish to joy ; 
but he did not tell Paddy this. “ This cooms 
in the way o’ our religion,” he added. “ And, 
dear,” said he to Peggy ; ‘‘ be sure ye take the 
darlin’ mammy’s little egg basket to the minis- 
ter’s, and till his lady we’ll keep up the gift 
o’ herself as long as we have a hin to cackle 
aboot the doors ! For I’ll be sorry the minister 
should think there weren’t a Christian left in 
the cottage to fade the Lord’s sarvants, now 
my mother’s gone ! ” 


CHAPTER VII. 


VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 

T he soft breeze of the bright autumnal 
afternoon was playing among the leaves of 
the luxuriant woodbine which overhung the 
porch of the unpretending house of Mr. Mur- 
ray, the excellent minister of Cloynmally, 
when Peggy tapped at the door. She asked 
the maid, “ Do ye think the minister would 
be at leisure to spake a few words to me ? ” 
She was ushered into the little parlor, where 
Mrs. Murray sat reading to her boys, and was 
kindly received. Before she was seated, Mr. 
Murray entered, and holding out his hand, 
spoke in very gentle tones, as is natural when 
we address one in deep affliction. 

“ My good friend,” he said, I’m sorry you 
should have to come after me in your sorrow. 
I was going down to Killyrooke in an hour or 


80 


VISIT TO THE minister. 


81 


two, to see you. I met John and heard how 
crushed you were by your great loss — and our 
loss, too, Peggy ; for we are all mourners in 
Cloynmally.’’ 

Peggy dropped a low courtesy and looked up 
to him with a beaniing face. “ Dear Mr. 
Murray,” she began, “ it’s not to talk o’ death 
or sorrow I’ve come ; but to tell ye something 
that’s wonderful and glorious — more like a 
message from heaven than of arth. I don’t 
know where to begin nor what to say.” 

Mr. Murray saw the unnatural light in the 
mild blue eye, and said, “ As you are so shy, 
Peggy, perhaps you’d feel more free to talk 
with me alone in my study.” 

‘‘ 0, dear heart, no ! ” cried Peggy. “ I 
want the whole of Cloynmally and Killyrooke 
— tlie whole world, to know what God has 
done for me, a poor, rebillious, weak, shy 
thing, un worth his care or notice ! Do ye 
think, sir, tliat iver a body was ‘ born again ’ 
twice ? ” 

I believe, Peggy, that many who have been 
truly renewed in heart are afterward brought 


6 


82 


GEMS OF TEE BOG. 


into a fuller light and joy, which seems to 
them almost like a new birth,’’ replied Mr. 
Murray. 

‘‘ Well, dear Mr. Murray, ye know well 
what a weak child I have been — in sperit — 
always holding on to Mammy Honey’s skirt to 
keep my hope up. I’ve been years a hungerin’ 
and a thirstin’ after righteousness. But mind 
what blindness I was in ! When I’d pray, I’d 
say, ‘ Make me holy like Mammy Honey,’ and 
not, ‘ as He is holy.’ I made that blissed saint 
my pattern, and was iver strivin’ to be like her 
and to plaze her. If God helped me to forgive 
my poor neighbors and to retarn them good 
for evil, I rejoiced, and thought, ‘ That is like 
her and will plaze her.’ 

‘‘ When the fear o’ death would come over 
me I was in great trouble because I’d be 
parted from her, and I used to pray that God 
would take us two at one time, havin’ a kind 
o’ dim hope that her strength and courage . 
would help to uphold me. But God came and 
took her from me, and I’d fallen into sin and 
doubted his mercy ; and woe’s me, I charged 


VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 


83 


God with forgettiii’ to be gracious and not 
keepin’ His covenant with the orphant ! 
Satan then came and brought with him black- 
ness and horrible darkness; and I lost God 
and hope, as well as her ! Och, ye would ha’ 
pitied me, dear sir, for I’d none to speak to — 
for John didn’t understand me. I prayed for 
hours, till I sank exhausted on my pillow and 
fell asleep. Then I dramed that I was walkin’ 
weary and lame through huge bogs full o’ 
holes and pits, and it black night about me. 
I dropped my staff and feared to go on without 
it, and stood cryin’. All of a suddent it grew 
light, and there before me stood the two 
shinin’ ones that Bunyan saw, and they bid me 
have good heart and walk bravely homeward. 
I told them I was hurted and could not go 
alone. Then said one o’ them, ‘ Ye are niver 
alone ; for though ye see him not for yer 
blindness, the Saviour is beside ye always, and 
benath ye are the everlasting arms. It is this 
which has kept ye so that ye could not, and 
that ye will not fall — foriver ! ’ I looked at 
my right hand, and there stood one like unto 


84 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


the Son o’ man, and all the time I’d been held 
up by Him and didn’t know it. He turned 
His lovin’ eyes on me and spake ; but the 
words I can niver tell, for they’re gone from 
me ; but they left my soul haped full o’ joy, 
and now there’s room for nothing else tliere ! 
I’m just fly in’ to go and be foriver with Him, 
and yit I’m quite contint to ’bide here tin 
thousand years if by that same I could add a 
whit to His glory or bring one poor soul to 
taste His love. And my heart is that full o’ 
love to my neighbors that I could take tliem 
all into my arms : they are no longer miserable 
‘ Papists ’ to me, but dear sinners that I must 
get saved with this great salvation ! Did ye 
iver hear the like o’ this before, sir ? I 
walked all the way to ask ye.” 

“ Yes, my good woman,” replied the minis- 
ter, looking in wonder at the radiant face over 
which tears of joy were freely coursing. “ I 
know two persons who have enjoyed such 
wondrous revelations of God’s mercy. One of 
them was a godly Scotch minister in Dundee. 
He' told me that he once had a season of such 


VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 85 

perfect and conscious union witli Christ that 
he had no will of his own left. He felt his 
wliole being, for time and eternity, swallowed 
up in God. His glorious perfections and attri- 
butes were revealed to him in a way that led 
him to realize something of the glory of heaven, 
where He is all and in all. But I’ll tell you, 
my dear friend, what else he said — not to dis- 
courage you, but so that, should his words 
come true, you will see that no strange thing is 
befalling you. He said that in all the cases he 
had known of this wondrous revelation, God 
was thus preparing the soul either for some 
great work or some great sorrow. Immedi- 
ately after his own triumphant view of God, 
there was such an outpouring of the Spirit as 
had not been in that city for a half century ; 
and he was thus fitted to gather in the lambs 
and to edify the saints. A worthy old saint, 
named Carmichal, experienced, years ago, much 
the same displays of God’s power in his soul, 
leading him to make a new and fuller sur- 
render of himself and his all to Christ. Not 
long after this a fearful distemper prevailed, 


86 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


and liis three children were smitten down and 
his house left unto him desolate. And he 
said that lie gave them up with joy in his soul 
— that he could not refrain from falling on his 
knees before his neighbors, and thanking God 
that He had accepted those whom he had so 
often committed to His care.” 

“ And so, dear Mr. Murray, them two had a 
heaven as well as mysilf on arth. But what 
could labor be but joy, after one has had a look 
at the Saviour’s face ? I can’t see what could 
come that one would have the boldness to 
call ‘ throuble,’ after yon vision o’ heaven in 
the soul.” 

“ Why, Peggy, death must ever remain a 
curse, for it separates us from those we love, 
you know, even if tliey and we are prepared to 
meet again,” said the minister. 

“ But it can never be a curse to me, dear 
heart, after this day. If I had twenty Mammy 
Honeys I’d give them all to Him, though I’d 
not a one beside, in all the world, to love me. 
What could I hold back from one who gave 
Himself for me ? ” 


VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 


87 


‘‘ Ah, Peggy, my good woman, you have 
reached a height your minister has not yet 
caught sight of. The King has held out His 
sceptre to you and suffered you to speak in His 
presence chamber. Go home and ask Him to 
reveal Himself to me — His weary servant who 
lias long toiled for souls in darkness here — as 
He has done to you. And may the God of peace 
abide with you.” 

All this time Peggy had held Mammy 
Honey’s little egg-basket on her arm, and now, 
•"ecollecting herself, she gave it with John’s 
message to Mrs. Murray, and said, “ The sun is 
linking, and I must go to look after my milk 
when poor Paddy brings it in. And I must 
take a step into the church-yard as I go, to look 
at the swate, paacfux grave where my darlin’ is 
sleepin.” And with a courtesy she departed. 

As she passed thix igh the little flower-gar- 
den on her way to the ^oad, Peggy stooped to 
look at a little flower “Pluck as many as 
you please, my dear friend,” said the minister, 
who stood in the door watching her. She 


88 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


gathered a few sprigs of mignonette and 
heart’s-ease, and, curtseying her thanks, went 
on. As Mr. Murray closed the door, lie 
saw her press them to her lips. “ Ah, look at 
her ! he said to his wife. “ Her heart is so 
full of love to-day that she is forced to pour 
it out on the smallest things that God has 
made ! Oh, for her exceeding great joy ! ” 
When Peggy reached the little church-yard, 
she stood a moment looking over the hedge 
which surrounded it ; then she passed in, and 
up a path to the new-made grave. A work- 
man was there trimming the hedge ; two 
little boys were wandering about hand-in-hand 
in solemn curiosity, whispering their questions 
and answers to each other ; a score of merry 
birds were trilling and twittering — they had 
no fear of death. But Peggy heeded neither 
sight nor sound. She was alone with God. 
“ Sure,” she said, “ this can never be the aw- 
ful place we left so late ! all here is calm and 
holy and homelike ! and she, the mother o’ 
my heart, is but slapin’ after the wary day. 


VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 89 

This is but the open door to hiveii, my Father’s 
house, where herself is a waitin’ me ! But 
whin I reach the place, my heart will be that 
full o’ Himself, that it’ll be a space ere I run 
to her ! He is to me, as niver till this day, 
the altogether lovely! He makes death aisy 
and the grave blissed. 0, death ! where is thy 
sting, 0, grave 1 where is thy victory ? They 
are both gone ; and we, when we is risen with 
Christ, will be conquerors, and shall wear the 
crown 1 Oh, the love o’ God in Christ Jesus ! 
How iver shall I show it to the world, and 
bring them all to taste it 1 ” 

She sat on the new-laid sod, smoothing it 
gently with her hand. “ I must away now, 
darlin’, home to my duties ; the roughest o’ 
thim all looks jist lovely to me now ! I’ll 
never again ask to bring ye back from the joy 
o’ the Lord ; never weep more for ye, and 
never cast reflections on God, by sayin’ — ‘ I’ve 
lost my mother ; ’ for I’ve not 1 I have her 
still, far safer and surer nor before, in the 
bosom o’ the Lord. Farewell, darlin’ dust ! 


90 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


for there’s nothing here but that ! ” And with 
a placid face, the loving creature pressed a 
fervent kiss on “ the dear arth that covered 
the darlin’,” laid the little flowers upon it, 
and went on her homeward way. 


CHAPTER YIII. 

SINGING AND WORKING. 

HEN Peggy returned to her labors, a 



f f light seemed to shine over every homely 
thing slie touched, and toil was changed from a 
curse to a blessing. Wiien the dairy work was 
over, she stirred up the peat, which usually 
supplied her with light, and brought out once 
more the little wheel. The flax flew as if 
by magic under her fingers, and the threads 
ran from it like silver wires in the changing 
firelight ; and before she knew it, she was sing- 
ing at her work. That she had rarely done in 
her happiest day, for, as John said, ‘‘ she was 
such a quiet-like mousie ye’d niver know she 
was in the world but only for the power o’ 
work she tamed otf her two hands.” It had 
been Mammy Honey’s wont to cheer labor with 
song, and Peggy had now resolved to be as 


91 


92 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


nearly like her as possible, in all things. John 
joined her song, and at the end of the first 
verse Peggy, turned to Paddy, who was sitting 
cross-legged on the floor beside her, mending 
tlie donkey’s harness. He always insisted that 
“ though it was manners entirely to sit in a 
cheer, if it was rest a lad was afther, there was 
nothing like a smooth clay floor for that.” 
“ Paddy,” said his mistress, ye’ve got a swate 
voice whin ye sing yon heap o’ nonsinse ; why 
can’t ye use it, dear man, to praise the Lord 
with ? ” 

“ I’m afeared o’ that cudgel o’ his river- 
ence’s, misthress dear. I’ve felt the weight o’t 
moor nor once ; and one time warn’t my 
shoulders black and blue with the knocks I got 
o’t for lamin’ the ’Simbly’s Catechism ? I 
promished him that day I’d hear no more 
prayers here, and forgit that same catechism — 
sure I know it so well now that I can say ivery 
blissed word o’t and count at the same time ! 
Whin Misthress Honey wint and asked him 
what her b’y had ben doin’ that desarved im- 
braces like yon, didn’t he tell her I’d been 


smama and working. 


93 


stalin’ pears out o’ his garden ? It nigh 
broke her heart thinkin’ that I, a well-fed lad, 
would be that mean and vicious ! And niver a 
pear did he raise in that ould garden 1 

Well, thin she put me to lamin’ the com- 
mandmint, ‘Thou shalt not stale ; ’ and the first 
time I confissed, didn’t he draw that out o’ me 
and give me another batin’ ? So betwixt the 
twos o’ ’em poor Paddy had a sorry life o’t, 
and the wfise conclusion I come to^ was jist 
this : to belave my dear misthress’ religion, 
and to pretind that I belaved his. So that 
ways I gets on quite asy. No, no. I’ll not be 
caught by any neighbor that’ll chance in, a 
singing hums, but I’ll listen ; that’s all ye can 
expect o’ me.” 

“ There, there, Paddy, don’t hinder the swate 
singin’ all night with yer talk, foolish man. 
Keep quiet while we sing, and try to praise 
God in yer heart,” said John. 

‘‘ Ay,” replied Paddy, “ I wull. Don’t ye 
think, masther, the lather o’ thim reins war 
rotten entirely whin we bought em ? I was 
tollin’ Jack Garin ” 


94 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


“ Whist, Paddy,’’ cried John, sharply, and 
listen to the singin’.” 

“ I wull, thill,” answered Paddy, bending 
over his work, and pressing his lips together 
so tightly that no word could slip through 
unawares. 

When Peggy had finished her spinning and 
her singing for the night, she brought out two 
large bags filled with yarn, carded and spun 
by the hands now folded forever. She poured 
out the hanks on the table, and looking proud- 
ly at the high mound they made, said, ‘‘ Look, 
John and Paddy ! ^ It’s little o’ this ye’ll need, 
for she left ye both supplied witli warm stock- 
ings for five years. So the nady will get it ; 
and I’ve had jist a lovely thought come to me, 
like it had come from herself in heaven.” 

‘‘ May be ; but it wouldn’t need come so far, 
for yer own heart’s full o’ as good and pure 
thoughts as is to be found any where ; ” replied 
John; “but let us hear this one.” 

“ Whin I was wonderin’ what more lovin’ 
work I could do in the world, this came to my 
mind, that I was young and strong, and 


SINGING AND WORKING. 


95 


didn’t nade all the slape I’m takin’ ; and that if 
I’d rise one hour arlier and go to slape one hour 
later, addin’ that time to the hours I could 
give to her old work for the nadj, it would 
atone a bit for the loss o’ her, and it would 
make me that glad to feel that myself was 
honored by fillin’ her place in the poor’s 
hearts ; ” and parcelling out the yarn she 
continued, “ Thim skeins will be enough for 
Teddy Byrns, and thim for old Davie Loon. 
These will knit four pairs for the poor babies 
o’ careless Kate Connor, and these for lame 

Jerry, and them for the poor fool, and ” 

“ Quit, Peggy, woman,” cried John, starting 
up, and manifesting a temper that she had 
seldom seen before ; ‘‘ would ye be turnin’ yer 
back on yer husband’s honor and on the rispic- 
tability o’ all the race o’ Sheehan by covering 
the feet o’ yon vile scapegrace ? I hope the 
toes will freeze off his two feet, and that he’ll 
starve to death with the cold afore spring 
laughs on the fields agin — to disgrace a 
fine rispictable funeral as he did yon day, — 
the villyan ! ” 


96 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


“ Mammy Honey both clothed and faded 
her iniinies, John, and it’s no more nor the 
Masther bids us all do. Sure, there’d be a 
great tamin’ up o’ things if Himself should 
cease to fade ony but His friends ! 0, dear 

man, mind He’s sent His rain on our fields 
mony the time when we war livin’ forgetful 
enough o’ Him, and has had an eye on every 
cratur’ in herd or fold while we war slapiii’ 
warm in our bed.” 

“ Peggy, woman, ye’re a great sheep. I be- 
lave if one should slap ye in the face ye’d offer 
him bread and milk to pay him for his attin- 
tions ! Now mind what 1 say — that seldom 
bids ye agin yer will, as other husbands does 
— let no mouthful that I arns iver go betwane 
the teeth o’ yon fool, and let no wool off my 
sheep’s backs ever cover his old feet ! I’m 
plannin’ yet how I’ll punish him for yon onre- 
ligious insult, and ye’d be knittin’ stockin’s 
for him the mane while ! Indade ! ” 

Peggy made no reply ; but Paddy’s ready 
tongue filled up the gap which would other- 
wise have been left in the conversation. 


SINGING AND WORKING. 


97 


Mastlier, dear,” he cried, eagerly, “ will ye 
lave his punishment in my hands ? I’ll hide 
ahind the hedge when I sees him cornin’, all 
dressed in a shate wid horns on my head, and 
hug him in my two arms. He’s the cowardest 
cratur’ in Killy rooke, and that would tar mint 
him far more nor the hugest batin 1 ” 

“ Och, John, dear, don’t let Paddy taze him, 
for he’s one o’ the Lord’s stricken ones, and 
we’d surely grieve Him if we’d be to scare 
away the bit o’ sinse he has. Shame on ye, 
Paddy Mannon ! Ye that are so afeared o’ 
ghosts and the Evil One that ye daren’t go to 
yer bed alone, and has to be coaxed up to the 
kitchen fire like a froze lamb ; ye to be plot- 
tin’ torture like yon for a poor thing that’s 
witless enough to do ony man’s biddin’ ! ” 

“ Well, noo, both o’ ye do hiddin\^^ said 
John. “ Paddy, ye lave yon fool in yer mas- 
ther’s hand ; and, Peggy, let me see no 
stockin’s goin’ out o’ the cottage to him.” 

This resolute tone was so unlike the yielding 
John that Peggy looked up in alarm, and 
made no reply. Remembering, as she never 


7 


98 


GEMS OF THE BOG, 


ceased to do, that all there belonged to John, 
and that she came to him a poor orphan with 
her worldly all in a little blue trunk that 
Paddy had carried into the - cottage in one 
hand, she submitted to his will. 


CHAPTER IX. 


AN UNWELCOME GUEST. 

T he winter, long and dreary, wore away, 
and the first whisperings of spring were 
heard among the branches around the cottage. 
Cheerfully as the fond Peggy had yielded up 
her mother to God, she yet sufiered at times 
an unutterable longing for her, and an unde- 
fined dread lest the swallows might not come 
back to build under the thatch, and that the 
hawthorn and honeysuckle would forget to 
bloom. It seemed impossible that the birds 
could come, now that the hand which had fed 
them was gone, or that the vines could creep 
upward in their silent strength when her hand 
was not there to train them ; or that the sham- 
rock and the daisy could peep above the cold 
sod, when slie who had so loved their lowly 
beauty was no longer there to smile on them. 


99 


100 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


Nature is not retarded in her progress by 
any changes in our homes, but moves on in 
her noiseless work to cheer the hearts and pro- 
vide for the wants of the living. 

Fruits succeeded the blossoms, and again 
the grain waved with its ripened burden in the 
fields of Daisy Farm. The reapers were busy 
with John and Paddy at a distance from the 
house. Peggy felt keenly the loss, which 
seemed renewed by this commemorative sea- 
son. The stillness of the cottage impressed 
her so painfully, one day, that she was glad 
when the sinking sun shone aslant the door- 
stone, reminding her that it was time to go to 
her milking. The shadows had begun to fall 
before she had finished her work in the barn- 
yard ; and being sad, she was not as brave as 
usual. As she took up her stool in one hand 
and her shining pail in the other, and turned to 
go towards “ Maid o’ Longford,” the last cow, 
she was not a little startled at seeing a tall, 
thin figure close behind her in the garb of a 
beggar. The famine was just then beginning 
to cast its shadow over poor Ireland, and 


AJ^ UNWELCOME GUEST. 


101 


beggars were becoming not only plenty, but 
insolent, often threatening and cursing those 
who did not meet all their demands. 

Always timid, Peggy was really terrified as 
the close, black hood was not lifted from the 
face of the silent beggar. 

“ And what is it I can do for ye, poor 
tiling ? ’’ she asked, in a tremulous voice. 

“ Peggy replied the woman, “ iPs a shelter 
and a bit o’ bread I wants. For the love o’ 
God and Mammy Honey take me in, for I’m 
dying with hunger and wakeness.” 

The voice struck Peggy with a sudden faint- 
ness, and she exclaimed, “ Sure, Nanny, this 
is never ye, lookin’ thus miserable ? ” 

It’s no other,” replied the girl, throwing 
back her hood, and showing her wan face. 
“ Peggy, Mammy Honey never refused shelter 
even to a dumb brute.” 

“No more will her child do it,” replied 
Peggy. “ I’ll give ye all ye nade.” 

“ Well, thin, I nades a home more nor any 
thing else. I’ve been tindin’ bar ilsewhere 
since I left ould Grogan, who niver paid me a 


102 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


ha’ pith, and I was sick the last three mouths 
in a hospital, and have walked all the road 
home, and am dyin’.” 

“ Why not go to yer own father’s house, 
child ? Where else would one go in throu- 
ble ? ” asked Peggy. 

“ They’re angered with me for lavin’ thim 
that suddent. My mother sint word she’d 
murther me if iver I come aboot here agin.” 

‘‘ And why thin did ye come, child ? ” asked 
Peggy. 

“ To find marcy at yer hand, ye happy 
woman. Let me ’bide under yer marciful 
ruff,” she answered, in an imploring tone. 

Peggy’s heart sank within her, but her 
kindness triumphed over her fears, and she 
replied, ‘‘ Ye may ’bide here, Nanny, till ye’re 
warmed and fed, but if they’d give me Harpley 
Hall I could never give ye a home. Mammy 
Honey bid us two live by ourselves, with her 
last brith. But come with me now into the 
cottage ; ” and Peggy took the little red shawl 
from off her own shoulders, and wrapped it 
around the girl, who was shivering, for the 


AN UNWELCOME GUEST, 103 

dew was falling, and led the way to the cot- 
tage. Here she stirred the peat till the 
waiting kettle puffed out anew its steam, and 
then, taking down from a high shelf the tiny 
canister, mixed a cup of tea. 

When Nan was well warmed and revived by 
a good supper, her old assurance returned. 

“ Come, Peggy,’^ she said, coaxingly, “ give 
a poor, disappointed and abused girl a home 
in yer cottage, and I’ll spin and wave for ye 
from daybreak till midnight.” 

“ Nanny,” replied Peggy, summoning all 
her courage, “ I’ll do ye good ony way but 
this. Ye can niver ^hide in this house. John, 
made me misthress o’t the day God took the 
darlin’ mother to Himself ; and while I remain 
that ye can never slape under this thatch.” 

Nan gave a low, derisive laugh, which made 
her wan face terrible, and said, “ If I war a 
Protestant ye’d kape me. But take yer own 
way ; there’s poor luck follows them as tarns 
the homeless oot o’ doors.” 

“ Ye are not homeless, child, and nather am 
I thrustin’ ye out ; but doin’ my hist for ye,” 


104 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


replied Peggy. Paddy Maiinon, that’s o’ 
yer own religion, has often declared he’d not 
’bide under the same ruff with ye, for he’s 
heard evil tales o’ ye, child, since ye left me. 
So, when ye’re well rested, go over to the 
father’s house and get forgiveness, and be a 
good girl. There come my rapers now over 
the field, and I must take up their supper. 
Here’s a crown, if ye’d be wantin’ any little 
comforts.” 

Nan rose feebly, took the proffered crown, 
turned her deep blue eyes sorrowfully on the 
good woman, and said in a hollow tone, which 
struck to her heart, “ Ye may see the day. 
Peg O’Canty, when ye’ll cross this door-stone 
with a sorrowfuller heart nor I do now ! ” 

Peggy was startled by her wild manner, and 
cried, “ Och, Nanny, child, don’t be cursin’ 
yer bist friend ! I’m ony mindin’ Mammy 
Honey’s biddin’, and yet I must tell ye that 
I’m more afeared o’ ye nor o’ death itself.” 

“ And well ye may be,” cried Nan, as with 
another stare at the timid woman she departed 
for her home. 


Alf UNWELCOME GUEST. 105 

Peggy was in an agony. She could then 
have given her the cottage and all it con- 
tained, so great was her fear of Nan^s designs 
on her peace of mind. The serpent’s tooth had 
entered Peggy’s heart, and she could scarcely 
wait till the reapers had gone out to smoke by 
the roadside, to cry, “ Tell me once for all, 
John, that ye love me more nor all else in the 
world.” 

John laughed and asked, “ Who other have 
I to love, jewel ? ” 

When Peggy told the story of Nan’s visit, he 
said, “ Ye did well, for she’s not fit company 
for ye, and I’ll not suffer her aboot the place 
after the word o’ our mother.” And Peggy 
was satisfied, and laughed at her own fears 
and those of Paddy, roused by Nan’s boast, 
which had reached their ears that though John 
was her father’s playmate, she would be his 
second wife, and have that fine cottage and 
dairy yet. 


CHAPTER X. 

FAMINE AND DEATH. 

T he fever wliicli followed in the wake of 
starvation in Ireland some twenty years 
ago, had been sweeping off its victims in the 
surrounding region, but had not hitherto 
reached Killyrooke, nor yet had the potatoes 
there suffered to any great extent. The peo- 
ple listened with white lips to any account of 
“ the sickness,” and if a person came from an 
infected region they fled from him as if he had 
the plague. The stoutest hearts quailed before 
the dreadful scourge, and men were afraid even 
to be merciful to the starving, lest the next 
day their own little ones might be crying for 
bread. 

Meg Mannon had extended her begging ex- 
cursion unwittingly into a village where the 
fever had just broken out. The half-starved 


106 


FAMINE AND DEATH. 


107 


and poorly sheltered people were flying, panic- 
stricken, ill every direction. Here she fell 
sick, and gave a pauper two shillings to walk 
three miles to Killyrooke for Paddy, who ran 
all the way there, howling piteously, talking to 
her and crying real tears, and not the mock 
ones he got up for strangers. He reached the 
workhouse “just in time to see her die without 
a word o’ love to the fine b’y who had been 
layin’ down his very life for her all the years 
she war his wife.” 

Oh, the overflowing anguish of that poor, 
foolish heart in that bitter hour, with none to 
speak a soothing word, and the gruff beadle 
giving his orders impatiently to have Meg 
buried before her form was cold ! 

Paddy grasped this dignitary by the arm ; 
and while his tears ran like a summer shower, 
he cried, “ Oh, if yer honor has the heart o’ a 
hoosband benath his waistcoat, I imploores him 
to give me the swate clay o’ my lovely wife till 
I gets it waked and buried in holy ground at 
Killyrooke — the only place in all the wide 
world worth bein’ buried in.” 


108 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


The hard heart of the beadle was moved by 
Paddy’s deep grief, and he finally promised to 
let the body remain in an out-building till the 
devoted husband could make his arrangements 
at home, and return for it with the donkey- 
cart. 

So, carrying the frightened little Pat in his 
arms, Paddy ran back at the top of his speed 

— he had won a fine pipe and a steel tobacco- 
box once at a foot race — and rushed breathless 
into the cottage. 

“ Och — masther — John — and Peggy, ye 
angel o’ a woman — Pve a great honor — to 
ask o’ ye. For the sake o’ — Mammy Honey 

— tliat niver denied me an honor — for the 
sake o’ the Virgin ~ Mary — and all the saints 
entirely — would ye let me — bring Meg — the 
dear dead jewel — to the ould cow-house fernint 
the bog to-night to be waked, and thin to be 
buried the morrow ? ” 

Terrified as they were by the very name of 
the sickness by which Meg had died, and by 
the sight of Paddy and his boy from an infected 
house, they had not the heart to deny his re- 


FAMINE AND DEATH. 


109 


quest. But the prudent John dared not trust 
his donkey in the infected region, and told 
Paddy so. He, nothing daunted, replied, sob- 
bing bitterly, “ Och, masther, heart o’ love, if 
ye’d be to lend me the loan o’ the dray we 
drags water with from the loch, I’m quite 
willin’ to be a donkey mesilf, for the sake o’ 
kapin’ my word to the dead jewel, that I’d give 
her a fine funeral. Och ! och ! But it’s black 
night entirely in my soul now and will iver be 
till the day when I lies down beside her. I’ll 
, never ate, drink or smoke more ; why would I 
when she’s dead ? Och ! och ! oo, hoo ! ” It 
really seemed to Peggy that Paddy’s heart 
would break through^ its strong breast- works 
with its tremendous throes. 

Peggy wept too, not that she cared much for 
the beggar-woman, but from sympathy with him. 
She told Paddy to take poor little Pat into the 
cow-house and feed him well, and put him to 
rest in the hay till his return, for John was 
not willing either father or child should remain 
in the cottage a moment. Having done this. 


no 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


and ill a marvelously short time returned with 
his melancholy burden on the dray, he went 
off to spend his quarter’s wages in ginger- 
bread, whisky and tobacco, and to invite his 
friends to the melancholy feast. But tlie news 
had preceded him, and tliey all fled from him 
with screams of terror. So he returned home 
and shouted to his mistress from the stile : 
“ Sure, I’ve lost my quarter’s wages, for not a 
one will come to the wake ; the fools is all 
afeard o’ Meg, as harmless a cretur’ as iver 
begged bread. But she’ll get a prayer said for 
the repowse o’ her sowl, as good a one as if she 
war the lady o’ Harpley Hall, and I’ll settle 
with his riverence at ihe end o’ my nixt 
quarter.” 

And Paddy, who was so afraid of death 
that he ran off a few months before and stayed 
away two days when the oldest donkey died, 
sat alone in the cow-house all night beside his 
dead, singing a dirge, or howling and crying. 
Now and then he consoled himself with his 
pipe, but he dared not even cast a sly glance 


FAMINE AND DEATH. 


Ill 


at the whisky jug, lest that might bring up 
Mammy Honey, who was a sworn foe to every 
tiling like it. 

Some mourners plant rare flowers and rear 
costly monuments over their beloved dead ; but 
it costs them nothing compared with what 
Paddy endured before he thus rose triumphant 
over inborn cowardice and natural superstition. 
Had he believed that his doing so would have 
helped Meg’s unshriven soul to slip more easily 
through purgatory, he would have lain down 
and been buried beside her. 

Ill tlie gray light of the morning, while 
little Pat was sleeping soundly in the hay, 
Paddy drew poor Meg to the little Catholic 
churchyard and, lowered her gently into a grave 
he had dug there the night before, talking to 
her all the time amid bursts of tears, ‘‘ It’s yer 
own Paddy, dear, that’s puttin’ ye to rist. It 
war him made yer bed, and only for little Pat 
he’d come and lie down aside ye. Sure I’d 
niver let ould Murtagh dig yer grave with his 
dirty hands. No, darlin’, mesilf did it with me 
best Sunday clothes on, — thim as was Daddy 


112 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


Sheehan’s — though they’re a trifle too big — 
for he was a huge man, ye mind. Good-by to 
ye, Meg, ye fine ombitious gerl. The sun shines 
not on yer like, and it’s a short space Paddy 
can live in the world ahiiid ye.” 

The “ holy father ” now came up according 
to appointment, and, standing at a respectful 
distance, read a service of which Paddy could 
not understand a word ; and it was just as well 
it was in Latin, for had it been in English, his 
reverence was too far off to be heard. 

All being over, Paddy returned to the old cow- 
house, the same in which he and Meg had kept 
house occasionally, and prepared breakfast out 
of doors for himself and his child, Peggy 
having set a jug of milk half way between 
them and the cottage. 

After Paddy and his boy had been quaran- 
tined for several days in the old cow-house 
without showing any symptoms of the dreaded 
fever, Peggy allowed them to come to the cot- 
tage one evening, and eat their bread and milk 
on the door-stone. Standing in the farthest 
corner of the kitchen, she said, “ Paddy, yer 


FAMINE AND DEATH. 


113 


masther and me is both wonderful taken up 
with yon curly-headed lamb o’ yours ; and he 
bids ye not take him back to the workhouse, 
for he’s to ’bide with us and be our child, as 
we niver had one o’ our own. And who can 
tell, Paddy, but God took Meg away that the 
poor lambie might be spared a beggar’s life, 
and grow up a holy man to fear God and to 
sarve his gineration.” 

“ Yery like He did, thin,” replied Paddy, 
“ and if so, it war a great stroke o’ luck that 
sint her to that town the very day the faver 
began ! ” 

Don’t say that, Paddy, o’ the poor mother ; 
for whativer failin’s Meg had, she was tinder 
o’ the buy — niver lavin’ him about among 
neighbors, as the half o’ them do, but draggin’ 
him weary miles on her back ! ” 

“ That’s true, iudade ! But for all, it was 
luck to little Pat, that tuk her off, if therebys 
he’s to be rared the son o’ a fine, rispectable 
farmer, place o’ bein’ reared a beggar. It’s 
fine luck for little Pat, though it’s murther for 


8 


114 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


me, poor distracted lad that I am, without a 
heart in me bussum ! Ohoo ! hoo ! hoo ! ” 

And who can tell, Paddy, but the child’s 
innocent prattle may win yer masther away 
from his frolics with thim ontidy urchins 
across the road ? He’s such a loon about 
childer, the poor, foolish man ! We’ll kape 
the boy that swate and clane that the very 
minister himself could take him on his knee 
and kiss him.” 

“ Dade will ye,” replied Paddy, looking 
proudly at the pretty, bright boy. “But 
what about the religion, though ? ” he asked, 
as the disadvantages of the offer began to sug- 
gest themselves. “ His riverence will bate the' 
life out o’ me if I suffer him to be tached yon 
’Simbly’s Catechism and the ten Protestant 
commandmints.” 

“ Paddy, if we takes him for our child, he’ll 
be named Johnny Sheehan, and the priest will 
have no more to say aboot him nor he does 
aboot Mr. Murray’s boys. And Paddy, I 
belave yer bearin’ false witness agin Father- 


FAMINE AND DEATH. 


115 


Clakey. Yer masther will tell him whin nixt 
he goes by, that we’ve taken little Pat for our 
child, and had him new named.” 

So little Pat was stripped of his beggar’s 
garb, dressed like a farmer’s child, and placed 
on a high stool of John’s manufacture, at the 
table. He at once began to call Peggy “ mam- 
mj^” and John “ daddy ; ” and being almost a 
stranger to his father, he now called him 
“ Paddy Mannon,” as every body else did. 
Whenever John came in from the field the 
little fellow would run to meet him ; and when 
he was seated in the cottage, he would climb 
on his knee, and putting his arms round his 
neck, call him pretty daddy,” and ask, ‘‘ May 
me ride donkey ? What did old donkey 
say ? ” Then John would tell long stories of 
what the donkeys, cows and ducks asked about 
the new little lambie that had come to. the 
cottage, with black wool on his head and red 
roses on his cheeks ! ” John taught him to 
count, and to tell the names of coin, and to 
whistle ; Peggy taught him the command- 
ments, and the words of Jesus, “Suffer the 


116 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


little children to come unto Me, for of such is the 
kingdom of heaven.” Before he had been 
there a week, whistles, tin carts, a jumping- 
jack and a drum, — trifles which had never 
before found their way to Killyrooke, were 
scattered over Peggy’s kitchen-floor, and John 
never went to town but he brought home some 
toy, about as new- and surprising to him and 
Paddy as to the boy. All three agreed that a 
child was a wonderful thing for making sun- 
shine in a cottage. 

One day, before poor Meg had been a week 
in her grave, Peggy went out of the cottage, 
leading little Johnny by the hand, to feed tlie 
poultry. As she neared the stile which led 
from the garden into a barley-field, she saw 
Paddy mounted on the topmost rail, mending 
his corduroy breeches with a darning needle 
and twine, and singing, with the full power of 
his lungs — and that is saying a great deal — 

** Norra is a fine gerl, 

Chakes like the rose. 

People think she is the quane. 

Every where she goes! 

0, the flower of Tipperary! ’* 


FAMINE AND DEATH. 


117 


0, Paddy, Paddy,” cried Peggy, “ that’s 
surely not ye, singing yon foolish song ! What 
were ye and the priest doin’ but a few days 
agone in the churchyard ? ” 

“ Hooly mother ! ” cried Paddy, springing 
from the stile and throwing up both hands in 
surprise, “ Sure I’d forgot ontirely that Meg 
was dead at all ! Ye don’t think, dear mis- 
thress, that she’ll come back to haunt me for 
singin’ aboot the ‘ Flower o’ Tipperary ’ ? Be- 
lave me that I’ve not at all made up me mind 
aboot another wife yet, or even whether I’ll 
take one or not ; and why would I, miserable 
man that I am, when the wide warld hasn’t 
another like her ? Where would I iver find 
one so strong as she, that would niver ask me 
for the price o’ a peck o’ male in the year, 
but take all the care o’ hersilf and her boy, 
and buy all my tobaccy beside ! Oohoo ! 
Oohoo ! How’ll I iver live in the arth 
without me jewel Meg?” and he wrung his 
hands, and wept and groaned piteously. 

His grief, however, was soon spent, and he 
sprang up on the stile again and resumed his 


118 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


mending with as much spirit as if no great 
sorrow was on him. Paddy loved his friends 
while they were with him, hut out of sight 
they were soon ‘‘ out of mind,” and he was as 
jolly and contented as if he had never known 
them. 

Peggy suffered some anxiety about the com- 
panions with whom little Johnny would 
mingle when he could no longer be kept at 
her side. Her heart shrank from his hearing 
an oath or witnessing the brawls of the neigh- 
boring children. Nan, who had not yet been 
murdered by her parents, as she had predicted 
she would be, often brought over her mother’s 
baby, a bright, plump creature, neat to a 
marvel, for him, to play with Johnny, and 
occasionally took her seat, uninvited, at the 
supper-table. This, of course, vexed Peggy, 
but she bore it meekly, being too much afraid 
of Nan to forbid her visits. 

The good woman’s fears for little Johnny’s 
future were all needless. For one short year 
he made sunshine in the cottage, and then 
came a sickness which gave no alarm till too 


FAMINE AND DEATH. 


119 


late for help , and soon his prattle was hushed 
in death. And again the cottage was silent. 

Peggy wept as if her heart would break ; 
and yet she blamed John for his boisterous 
grief, saying, “ Don’t let yer neighbors say, 
dear, that ye wail louder for a beggar’s baby 
nor for yer own holy mother! Thank God 
with me, John, that the little darlin’s safe 
with Himself, rather than us taken and him 
left in the hands o’ poor, careless Paddy. 
Heaven will be more like our home, John, 
now that we’ve both our mother and our child 
there.” 

Heaven was to John a place very far off ; 
and he gave little thought to it — or, indeed, 
to any thing beyond his home-work and his 
crops. So, after a sad week or two, he was 
the same as before he had found and lost the 
child. 

While John and Peggy were weeping over 
the little cold form lying on Mammy Honey’s 
bed — now a sacred place — Paddy was flying 
about with an excited business air, making 
arrangements for the funeral, and comforting 


120 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


Peggy and John as if lie himself had no part 
in the affliction. He had given the child 
away, therefore his death was nothing which 
particularly concerned him. 


CHAPTER XI. 


A GREAT SORROW, 


OT a week had passed, after the death of 



little Johnny, when Paddy saw his mas- 
ter tossing coppers among the little O’ Gor- 
mans, and stepping up behind him, said, 
“ Ye’d better quit that, Marsther John. 
Remember what ye promised by the deathbed 
o’ yer mother, and kape dare o’ the villyans 
altogether.” 

“ Yer right, Paddy, I’ll do that,” replied 
John, “ and not grieve poor Peggy, that likes 
the whole race so ill.” 

Peggy had had but little time to weep for 
Johnny, when a message came by the post- 
chaise that Mammy Honey’s sister, an aged 
and friendless woman, lay on her deathbed ; 
and begging that Peggy would come to her at 


121 


122 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


once. Seventy miles away ! It seemed to her 
as far, and attended with as many dangers, as 
a voyage round the world would to us. But 
duty called ; and so the timid woman prepared 
to face the world, and make her way to Bal- 
dorgan. 

John and Paddy both promised her to 
attend faithfully to the kitchen and the dairy 
till her return ; and, with some misgivings as 
to tlie fate of the poultry, Peggy set off, weep- 
ing at the thought of leaving her “ ilegant 
home and John,’^ even for a few weeks. 

“ Now, Paddy,” she said, as he grasped her 
hand at parting, ‘‘ mind I bid ye be tinder and 
respictful to all the cows when ye’re a milkin’, 
but partic’lar to the Maid o’ Longford ; for ye 
know that ye’re often impatient when she lifts 
her foot, and spakes in ways that hurts her 
feelin’s.” 

“ I’ll bear that in mind, thin,” said Paddy, 
“ and good luck go with ye and bring ye spady 
home.” 

For four weeks Peggy ministered to her 
aged friend before she died, and then followed 


A GREAT SORROW. 


123 


her to the grave, a solitary mourner She 
almost flew at the thought of home, now that 
she was released. She could not wait twenty- 
four hours for the post-chaise that passed 
through the village where she was, but walked 
five hours to meet one which went sooner from 
the next town. All the way along the dusty 
road she was drawing bright pictures of her 
home, which never seemed so beautiful to her 
as when absent from it ; and her heart beat 
proudly at the thought of the welcome await- 
ing her. The post-chaise stopped at Cloyn- 
mally, and she had then a long walk to Killy- 
rooke, for no letter had announced her 
coming. It was late in the afternoon when 
she opened the rude gate that led into the 
garden ; and, seeing the cottage door open, she 
concluded that John was at home, and stepped 
very lightly, hoping to give him a joyful sur- 
prise. She was suddenly startled by what she 
fancied to be the hum of Mammy Honey’s flax 
wheel! She stopped, and whispered, “ Can it 
be that she’s come back to watch over him she 
loved, when I’m away? But there’s the voice 


124 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


o’ song ! Not the holy song o’ heaven, 
though ! Och, my heart ! my heart ! ” 

Entering the cottage, she saw a spectacle 
which sent the blood from her cheek and lips 
back to her heart ; and, almost fainting, she 
sank into the nearest chair and dropped her 
hands helplessly at her sides. 

There, at ‘‘ yon blissed little flax-wheel,” sat 
Nan O’Gorman, spinning, and singing — 

“ The world’s a bid o’ roses. 

With niver a thorn for me.” 

Peggy only groaned ; for the power of utter- 
ance was gone. She fixed her eyes on Nan, 
and had not strength to remove them, much as 
she strove to do so. 

The brazen face flushed under her gaze, and 
Nan said, “ Don’t be goin’ wild, now, Peggy, 
because a poor abused girl has taken shelter 
beneath the rufi* where ye’ve had years o’ 
plinty. Ye hadn’t a home always ; and the 
copy-book o’ the schoolmasther says, ‘ Turn 
aboot is fair play.’ And don’t be blamin’ 
John, ather, for it’s not by his askin’ but o’ 
my own will IJiat I’m here kapin’ his house 


A GREAT SORROW. 


125 


and cookin’ his food in yer absince. Indade, 
he bid me away at the first, but yerself knows 
I’m not aisy disposed of” — and she laughed. 
“ Paddy Mannon, that loves ye more nor he 
does the Virgin, has refused to ate what I 
cooks, and biles his own porridge beside the 
old cow-house. So it’s none o’ his doin’s, but 
all my own. I’ll work under your hand, 
Peggy, and let ye still be the misthress ; but 
Tm to hide here; that’s settled, and it’s not in 
yer power to drive me off! Are ye turned to 
stone, Peggy ? Ye scare me with yer wild 
eyes and yer white face.” 

“ Nan,” replied Peggy, faintly, “ the same 
thatch can niver cover ye and me ! May God 
forgive ye as free as He pities me this day ! ” 

She then rose, and with an unsteady step 
passed through the garden towards the old 
cow-house, where she found Paddy making a 
peat fire on a pile of stones, to cook his 
supper. 

When he saw her, he turned away his face as 
if he could not meet her eyes; and bursting 
into tears, he sobbed out, ‘‘ Och, och ! that 


126 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


was an evil day when ye left us and quit 
watcliin’ him ! The sarpint with the human 
face is crawlin’ round yer kitchen ; but as sure 
as I’m Paddy Mannon I’ll give it a blow that’ll 
send it out, if ye’ll bide aisy till I does it ! ” 

“ No, Paddy, if she do not depart this night, 
I will on the morrow. Why ever did God 
take Mammy Honey to heaven when she was 
so sore naded on arth ! But He’s wilcome to 
her, for all. I’ll not grudge her to Him, nor 
yet will I resist the rod in His hand ! 0, 

Paddy, it was well this didn’t come afore I got 
the great light in my soul ! Himself was de- 
spised and rejicted o’ men, and why not me. 
His unworthy disciple ? Himself hadn’t a 
where to lay His head, and why should I have 
this lovely home ? I remembers how he drank 
the vinegar and gall, and I’ll just drink it too, 
’stead o’ demandin’ the swate milk I’ve had so 
long. Dear Mr. Murray said God was fillin’ 
my soul with Himself to prepare me for some 
great thing — little I dreamed o’ this ! If 
John was dead and lyin’ beside the darlin’ 
mother, what joy would fill my heart, aside o’ 


A GREAT SORROW. 


127 


losiii’ him this way — soul and all. But He 
opened not His mouth, and nather will I. I’ll 
not add sin to sorrow by holding words with 
any aboot it ; but strive to lane my soul on 
God, who is the husband o’ the widow — and 
I’m a widow, now, Paddy ! ” 

Still Paddy sobbed, but managed to tell his 
mistress how he had abused the usurper, taunt- 
ing her with all the evil he had ever heard of 
her race, from her great-grandfather, who 
was a poacher, to her uncle, who was ’mi- 
grated off to Australy.” He told how he, in 
virtue of his prophetic office as serpent-slayer, 
had taken Nan by the shoulder the day she 
came, and put her out o’ doors, and got his 
eyes nearly scratched out in return, which con- 
vinced him that he could do nothing at present 
but “ make up grimaces behind her back — 
which same was a relief to himself, though no 
harm to her.” 

Not a tear moistened Peggy’s eye, but her 
anguish betrayed itself in her pallid face and 
her hoarse, tremulous tones. Looking at the 
sinking sun, she said, “ Paddy, I’ll sit down in 


128 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


the cow-house till yer supper’s done. Then go 
ye for the cows, for I’m homesick to see the 
dear craturs — them, without the light o’ rea- 
son or holy tachin’, is faithful to me still.” 

To show his devotion, the weeping Paddy 
threw his supper violently on the ground, de- 
claring that he was “ not the man to ate con- 
tint when the life was bein’ crushed out o’ his 
misthress!” And taking a great shilalah, 
which he carried to fight imaginary foes, he 
set off for the pasture. Peggy remained mo- 
tionless, as if bound by a fearful spell, save 
that now and then she lifted her eyes heaven- 
ward, and whispered a prayer for support and 
comfort. 

Peggy was aroused from the stupor of 
anguish by heavy foot-falls on the sward, as 
Paddy drew near with his charge. He was 
still weeping bitterly and telling the cows, 
between his sobs, that a black cloud had fallen 
on Daisy Farm, and that the saints were all 
forsakiii’ it and lavin’ it in the hands o’ a sar- 
pint o’ a woman and a goose o’ a man. And 
only for ye, dear cows,” he said, “ Pd go too, 


A GREAT SORROW. 


129 


and follow the kind misthress all over the 
world, and arn her bread for her. She’s afeared 
to look at a stranger, but Paddy Mannon is not 
— nor a hundred o’ ’em.” 

Peggy rose up as the cows approached her, 
and throwing her arms around the neck of a 
silver-gray cow, the “ Maid o’ Longford,” 
wliich had been Mammy Honey’s last gift to 
her, she burst into a flood of blessed tears. She 
pressed her cheek against the silvery neck and 
said, ‘‘ Och, little ye knows, innocent thing, o’ 
my sorrow ! I, that has fed ye so free, has 
nothing to ate myself! I, that has loved ye so 
tinderly, has not a one in all the world to love 
me ! Ye don’t know that ye are no longer 
mine — that ye’ll see me no more, nor hear my 
soft voice that niver give ye a hasty word, — 
Och, my poor heart 1 ” 

“ Will ye tak’ a stool and milk her ? ” asked 
Paddy. 

“ No, Paddy, there’s nather power in my 
Imnd nor yet in my heart for that,” Peggy 
readied ; “ but I’ll look at ye doin’ it, and say 
what I’d like while we’re alone. Ye have iver 

9 


130 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


been a faithful boy to me, and niver once gave 
me an onrispictful word. I’d wish to thank ye 
for all yer love in the past. Ye’re the only 
friend I have now, Paddy, that I can spake to. 
Yer masther promised God and his mother that 
he’d stand ’twixt me and throuble while he had 
life in him. But now it is himself that’s put a 
spear in my heart ! Peggy Sheehan’s not the 
woman to ’bide in a house and quarrel ; and 
iiather is she the one to stand silent and see 
her husband’s heart stole from her and his 
honor destroyed entirely ! Ye can do me one 
more service, Paddy dear,” — she had never 
addressed him thus before — and may be it’ll 
be the last yer poor friend will ever ask.” 

“ And what’s that, misthress, darlin’ ? I hope 
it’s to murther Nan, and then fly off* to Ameriky 
or some other pagan country ! ” 

‘‘ No, Paddy ; do her no evil ; lave her with 
God,” answered Peggy. “ I’d wish ye to be 
at the gate to-morrow morning afore the sun 
peeps over the bog, to meet me. And mind, 
ye’re niver to spake my name to himself till tlie 
day comes when his heart is broke for his sins 


A GREAT SORROW. 


131 


agin God and his poor lovin’ wife. Mind what 
I say, Paddy, my name is a forbidden word ! 
I’d wish ye to do yer duty to yer masther and 
to the cratiirs ; but it’ll be a great comfort to 
me if ye’ll still ’bide in the cow-house and not 
countenance yon cruel woman when I’m gone.” 

“ I’ll starve first ! But where are ye goin’ ? 
Ye’ve not a friend or a kin left that ye can 
make free with, now that the old Boanes is 
dead,” replied Paddy. 

“ I have health yet, and can toil even with a 
broken heart, Paddy. I’ll seek a sarvice place, 
for I could niver live where John war not 
honored and inspected. And now I must gather 
heart to go into the cottage, for I must turn 
keys on a few things not to be touched by on- 
holy hands.” 

“ Keys ! ” cried Paddy, scornfully. “ What’s 
thim good for when the likes o’ her’s about ? 
Didn’t she wear Mammy Honey’s best shawl to 
Ned Givin’s wake the last week ? And hasn’t 
the old mother the duffel gray cloak over there 
now ! ” 

Peggy threw up her hands and uttered a 


132 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


sharp cry; then clasping them tightly over 
her heart she said imploringly, Please, dear 
man, tell me no more, or I’ll be driven wild 
and lose my hold on God ! It’s all over 
with my happiness in this world ; but I’m a 
small cretur’ to be thinkin’ of, when John’s 
soul is at stake, and all Killyrooke setting this 
great sin down agin our blissed religion and 
stumbling over it ! ” 

Peggy rose to go into the cottage. As she 
turned the corner of the cow-house, she saw 
John standing there as if waiting for her. She 
did not raise her eyes ; but he joined her, and 
after a moment’s silence said, “ Ye’re welcome 
home, Peggy.” 

Still she did not speak, but her deathly 
countenance betrayed, the struggle going on 
within. Jewel,” he said, after a great effort, 
“ this is none o’ my doin’s. She came into the 
cottage the day after ye left, for shelter from 
the abuse o’ her mother. And once here, she 
took all into her hands ! She would nather go 
for my beggin’ nor yet for Paddy’s abuse ; but 
now ye are come back to us as are the misthrcss, 


A GREAT SORROW. 


133 


ye can send her off yerself. Ye know, Peggy, 
I’m a great sheep, and could never spake a 
rough word to a woman — though she were an 
evil one.” 

Peggy found breath to say, “No, John, I 
shall never bid her away ! My neighbors shall 
not see me doing what my husband should do, 
and then taunt me with it ! And more nor 
that, I doubt if even ye can drive her out now. 
She tells me ye have promised her a home, 
whinever she wills to ’bide here ! And the 
same tliatch couldn’t cover us two ! 0, John, 

John, why did Mammy Honey lay that fearful 
charge on me, when she' said, ‘ Bring him to 
me at last ; I’ll expect that of ye, Peggy.’ ” 

And saying this, she closed her eyes and 
passed tlirough the kitchen, where Nan was 
singing as she spread tlie simple board for sup- 
per, into her mother’s little room, and drew 
the wooden bolt behind her. She threw herself 
into the rude oaken chair, laid her cheek on 
the pillow, and gave way to a flood of tears, 
mingled with prayers to Heaven for strength. 
Her plaintive tones, echoing through the low 


134 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


rooms of the cottage, were enough to melt a 
heart of stone.- 

John followed her to the door ; but he was 
too great a coward, — sin makes even the 
bravest men cowards, — to ask her pardon, and 
thrust the intruder forth. He stood there 
weeping ; and when called, he refused to eat his 
supper. He spoke harshly to Nan, asking her 
if she were not ashamed to turn a pure-hearted 
wife out of her own house. But she only 
laughed in his face, and replied that she was 
quite willing to allow Peggy back, and had even 
offered to let her be mistress still ! 

All night John sat in the kitchen or walked 
the floor, listening to the sobs and prayers of 
his wife, planning reforms to begin with the 
light, and promising to atone with redoubled 
kindness for his faithlessness and cruelty. 
Alas, poor, irresolute man ! He did not take 
into account his own weakness, nor the strength 
of the foe ; nor yet was he prepared for the 
courage with which Christian principle and 
womanly pride had armed the timid creature 
he had so deeply wronged. 


CHAPTER XII. 


HOMELESS, 


T break of day Peggy looked out of the 



IJL little glass window, — the pride of the 
cottage, — and saw Paddy leaning against the 
gate, awaiting her. She waved her handker- 
chief to him, and he approached her with 
swollen eyes, which told how little he had slept 
and how much he had wept. She passed to 
him her little blue box or trunk, the only 
thing she had brought with her to her new 
home when a bride. It now contained the few 
articles of clothing she had bought with her 
own spinning-money ; for she shrank from 
taking any thing given her by John, now that 
he had suffered the serpent with a human face 
to “ put a space between their two hearts.” 

This done, the meek creature passed 
through the kitchen, — where John still sat 


135 


136 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


sleeping, — without stirring the air. Slie 
dared not look at him, lest her strength might 
fail her. 

Before she joined Paddy at the gate, sho 
went round to the glass window and plucked a 
sprig of the sweet brier that overhung it. 
This she pressed for a moment to her lips, and 
then laid it in the folds of a fresh handker- 
chief and hid it in her bosom like a ‘‘ charm.” 

As Peggy looked at her poor friend, an in- 
voluntary smile passed over her pale face. He 
had dressed himself in Daddy Sheehan’s 
clothes, to honor the occasion, and was almost 
buried in them. “ Dear man,” she exclaimed, 
“ why do ye make such a figure o’ yersilf 
when I cannot laugh as I once did at ye ! 
I’ve told ye a score o’ times to take yon 
clothes to Jock, the tailor, and have them 
made to fit ye. Ye look like a harlequin I ” 
And so he did ; for the tails of tlie blue coat 
barely cleared the ground, and the pockets 
behind, graced with huge brass buttons, were 
a foot and a half below their proper place. 
The breeches were pushed up in great heavy 


HOMELESS. 


137 


folds to make them short enough to buckle at 
the knee, and the sleeves were rolled half way 
to the elbow. ‘‘ Why don’t ye do my biddin’ 
about the clothes ? ” she repeated. 

“ Because it would be a great refliction on 
the old masther ; the same as sayin’ he didn’t 
have them made right at first ! And more ; 
if they fitted me, people would only say, ‘ See 
Paddy Mannon’s new shute ! ’ , and never 
think o’ the honor that was haped on me by 
gittin’ them willed to me. Now they say, 
‘ See Paddy Mannon in the fine ould masther’s 
Sunday shute. How yon family honors that 
lad ! ’ ’Dade I’ll just wear them as they is, for 
his sake and my own,” answered Paddy. 

Paddy shouldered the blue box, remarking, 
“ It’s a dale lighter than it war the day ye 
came first to us, and I lifted it out o’ the 
new donkey-cart.” 

“ Yes, poor man,” replied Peggy, ‘‘ I’m like 
Naomi o’ old ; I came in here full o’ pros- 
perity and blissed with hapes o’ love, but I go 
forth empty of arthly good ! But I’m rich for 
all this, Paddy ! I feel just now as I did the 


138 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


day I gave Mammy Honey and every thing 
else up for Christ’s sake ! The great peace 
has come on me again with new power. I can 
not only give up mother, and house, and land, 
but even him thaCs dearer nor all., at the 
Master’s biddin’. And I’m quite contint in 
belavin’ that the Judge o’ the whole arth will 
do right, though one poor heart may break by 
the way He does it.” 

“ Well, misthress, darlin’,” sobbed Paddy, 
“ I’m glad yer not ravin’ wild with the throu- 
ble, but I’d be better plazed if ye’d show a 
little more sperit ! Sperit is a fine thing in a 
woman. I’d hoped that ye’d be roused up a 
little afore ye left, so that ye’d break the look- 
in’ glass, and the windy, and the red and 
white dishes, and burn up the linen that them 
blissed hands spun and wove, afore she’d en- 
joy thim.” 

“ No, Paddy, there’s no revinge in my 
heart ; but only sorrow and shame for the 
masther; and for Nan — well. Heaven pity 
her, and bring her to repintance afore death 


comes. 


HOMELESS. 


139 


“ Wbat ! and so she be let into heaven ? 
exclaimed Paddy. ‘‘ I’ll not put a foot into it 
myself if she’s there ! ’Dade I’ll not ! I 
thinks too much o’ myself to be in ony place 
where she’ll be ! ” 

Peggy had no time now for either instruc- 
tion or controversy, for she was in haste to 
reach Cloynmally, where a wagoner stopped 
on his way to the distant city. She chose to 
ride on the high seat with him, rather than in 
the post-chaise, where she would have to look 
strangers in the face, and hear conversation 
which might distract her mind. 

As they came up to the little Presbyterian 
church and biirying-ground, Peggy said, Ye 
sit down on the roadside till I pluck a sham- 
rock blossom off the grave, and thank God that 
He tuk her to Himself from the evil to come. 
0, Paddy, how lovely the grave looks ! And, 
dear man. I’ll trust ye to bring me back and 
lay me beside her if I dies away.” 

‘‘ I’ll do that same, even if ye’d ’migrate to 
Ameriky, and I’d have to wade the Atlantic 


140 


GEMS OF THE BOG, 


ocean and bring ye back in my arms — I’d do 
it — would I ! But where’ll I ever find ye ? ” 
‘‘ Paddy, a lady that Mammy Honey’s old 
sister nursed when a baby, came to see her, 
and to bring the pension the family ’lowed her, 
when I was there. They always looked after 
her and loved her, though they had removed 
far away. The lady was that thankful for my 
tinderness that she asked me would I go to the 
great city with her and mind her fable ould 
mother ? I told her I had no nade o’ sarvice, 
but was the richest, and proudest, and hap- 
piest wife in our town. She’d be to make me 
take a guinea as a keepsake, and that, with 
three Mammy Honey gave me seven years 
agone to keep agin a rainy day, is what I has 
for my journey now. This lady. Miss Grey, 
said, at partin’, ‘ Well, Misthress Sheehan, I’m 
glad ye’re so comfortable ; but none knows 
what’s afore ’em in life. If ye should iver 
nade a friend, come to me.’ And she gave 
me a bit o’ card with her name on’t, and it’s 
to her I’m goin’.” 


HOMELESS. 


141 


‘‘ Give me the name o’ her place ; and after 
the next harvest I’ll call and find ye out, and 
spind a week with ye. May be there might be 
a horse-race or a ‘ fair ’ aboot that time ; and 
if so, I’ll kill two birds with one stone,” ex- 
claimed Paddy, with animation. 

Peggy could not help smiling at such folly. 

‘‘ I’m to be a sarvant there, Paddy, and will 
have nather room nor wilcome for guests. I’ll 
tell ye where Miss Grey is, if ye nade me ; but 
mind, it’s to be buried in yer own heart ; for 
Pd not wish another one to know where I be.” 

“ Nor will they, ather. Hasn’t ye sint word 
to Mr. Murray ? ” asked Paddy. 

“ How could I revale to him the disgrace o’ 
this son o’ the righteous ? If he asks for me, 
make my respicts to him, and tell him the 
peace o’ God, that he’d so. often implored on 
us all, was ’bidin’ on me when I left home,” 
said Peggy. 

‘‘ He came to the cottage when you were 
gone, to inquire into the evil reports he’d 
lieerd-; but the coward o’ a man saw him, and 
run off into the farthest barley-field, and 



Peggy’s good-bye to paddy. 



HOMELESS, 


143 


feet out o’ the net afore he die ; and if so be, 
who knows but He’ll let me bring him safe 
to her at last, as she bid me.” 

“ There’s poor tokens on’t,” replied Paddy. 

“ But what a lovin’ father God is, that He 
tuk little Johnny to Himself afore this,” said 
Peggy. 

“ So He is, too,” answered Paddy ; but I 
hears the great, lumberin’ whales o’ the 
carrier.” 

The wagon now rolled heavily up the road, 
and was stopped in answer to the call of 
Paddy, who reached up the blue box to the 
driver. 

Giving Peggy his hand to assist her to a 
seat beside him, the man said, “ Yer for an 
ear];^ start, good wife ; ” and then looked in 
amazement at her, as, leaning down from her 
perch, she grasped the rough hand of her poor 
friend, and exclaimed, “ May the Lord reward 
ye for yer love and pity to me with the salva- 
tion o’ yer soul, dear man. God in heaven 
bliss ye, Paddy Mannon ! ” 


144 


GEMS OF THE BOO. 


“ Am I takin’ a body to the ‘ Lunatics ’ ? ” 
asked the wagoner. 

‘‘ ’Dade ye’re not, but to a fine lady’s house, 
as a nurse, my man ! But she’s a dale throu- 
bled about laving her ilegant home. So do ye 
be tinder o’ her, or I’ll take yer life next day,” 
said Paddy. 

The man rolled out a rough oath, and laid 
the lash heartily on the backs of his heavily- 
laden horses. 

“ Dear man,” cried Peggy, don’t give an 
onnadeful pang to any thing God has made. 
We and the dumb craturs is all His work, 
and all sufferers, too, under the hand o’ man. 
Be marciful to thim as He is marciful to us.” 

And they drove off, leaving Paddy wailing 
and sobbing on the roadside. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


SOWING BY THE WAYSIDE. 

^^TT’S heavy whaling the day, misthress,” 
X said the wagoner, by way of opening a 
conversation with his passenger ; “ and I fear 
weTl not see Baldargie, where I halts for the 
night, till the moon be riz.’^ 

Turning to receive an answer, he saw Peggy 
wiping the tears from her pale cheek, and his 
kind heart was touched. 

“ You’ve lost yer sarvice place, poor 
thing ! ” he said ; ‘‘ but I’m just sure by yer 
looks it was no fault o’ yer own ; ye must 
keep up heart, for all will turn out for the best 
in the end. There’s a better place waitin’ ye 
nor the one ye’ve lost, and a kinder and 
feeliner misthress. I’ve lived more years by 
a dozen than ye, and my experience is, that 
there’s a sartain amount o’ luck for each one 


145 


10 


146 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


o’ US. Some gets it all in a liape and has 
hard fare afterward ; and some gets it 
sprinkled along through life. The last’s been 
my lot. I’ve had liard work from a lad. up, 
till my back’s been nigh broke at times ; but 
when I took a wife, then came luck to my 
door, for I got one that made the most o’ the 
little I arned, and always met me with a 
smile, whether my hand was empty or full. 
By-and-by more luck come in the sliape o’ 
little folk ; they came faster than the bread 
did, but they never lacked. If any went 
hungry, it was Molly and me. In them days 
I saw nobody I envied ; but agin, our luck 
turned two ways at once. I got this team o’ 
horses to drive, and fine pay. But when bread 
was plenty, the mouths grew scarce. The 
little darlin’s dropped off, one followin’ tlie 
other, till we counted four graves in the 
churchyard. Now we’re alone, and sorrowful 
enough too. But as we’ve had a share o’ 
good luck, we mustn’t grumble. Your luck 
will turn with this journey, take my word 
for it! Why, dry yer eyes there; don’t yer 


SOWING BY THE W’AYSIDE. 


147 


know its luck to ride with Barney’s horses ? 
and if yer purse is low, my good girl, it will 
niver be a farthing lower for me. I’ll give ye 
the ride and wilcome and say a good word 
for ye at the end o’ the journey, where I puts 
up these seven year.” 

“ Yer too kind, friend,” replied Peggy. 
“ If I was nady I’d accept yer offer as if ye 
was my brother ; but I’ve several guineas o’ 
money, and a place to go into when I arrive in 
the great town.” 

“ Then I can’t see what on arth makes ye 
cry. If yer a maid, ye cannot have buried 
husband or child,” said the wagoner kindly. 

“ Ah, sir, I’ve lost both. I first buried the 
swatest mother God iver gave a poor girl, and 
then a dear lambie o’ a boy that I tuk mother- 
less to my bussum. But them was small loss, 
because it was so asy to see God’s hand in 
their goin’. I’ve lost the other now, but not 
in the grave. Yer too kind to ask me more. 
Listen patient now, while I tell ye the idee I 
has about Inch, I calls it ‘ Providence,’ and 
whether it comes in sunshine or in black 


148 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


cloud, I sees God’s face in it. I can say, with 
yon holy David, ‘ Goodness and marcy have 
followed me all the days o’ my life,’ for when 
God tuk all the others from me. He left Him- 
self. And, dear man, nobody can be poor or 
desolate as has Him in his soul, — Him that 
sticketh closer nor a brother. When I 
was livin’ at my ase. Him that sees the end 
from the beginning was preparin’ a table afore 
me in presence b’ my inimies. And He it was 
that led ye, too, through both bog and pastur’, 
that ye might see His hand and come and taste 
o’ His love. He gave yer wife and babies in 
marcy, and He tuk the lambies in the same 
marcy, to draw the parents’ heart after them. 
Don’t, then, call yer joys and throubles ‘ luck,’ 
like a hathen, but call them the dalins’ o’ God 
witli ye.” 

‘‘ Why, my good woman, ye’re a Methodis, 
sure. I niver heerd the like talk from another 
but thim ! ” cried the wagoner, looking in sur- 
prise at Peggy. 

“ I never seed a one o’ them,” she replied, 
“ though I’ve heerd tell o’ the Wesleys, and 


SOWING BY THE WAYSIDE. 149 

knows a lovely hymn that one o’ them writ 
about Jesus.” 

And thus Peggy beguiled the way, talking 
in a manner almost miraculous for her, and 
leading the mind of her rough companion up 
to God. Before night fell she had heard his 
history and given him hers, — all save the one 
sore point on which he was too delicate to 
question her. She had heard of the few praying 
Methodists in his native town, who, he said, 
“ were parsecutiii’ every body to be convarted 
like themselves, and goin’ on as if religion 
was the importantist thing in the world. They 
had won little Billy over to their school, and 
Jerry too, afore they died, and had filled up 
their small heads with varses and hymns that 
came out in their dyin’ breath ; and now 
they are tamed to parsecutiii’ me and my wife 
the same way, and she’s a’ most one o’ ’em, 
— goiii’ to their prayers, and their sing- 
ings, and the like. But I never tuk much to 
thim things ; all the religion iver I had,” he 
added, “ was hathred o’ the Catholics, and 
holdin’ up my head with pride that I warn’t 


150 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


bom among them. Why, good woman, thim 
Methodises belave that Papists may all be 
turned yet ; and they prays and prays for that, 
but they can’t know the power o’ the Pope and 
the priests.” 

“ Dear man, thim poor craturs, whose brith 
is in their nostrils, is no more in God’s hand 
nor the stubble afore the fire, and it’s as asy 
for Him to bring the Pope off his throne into 
the dust, where he’ll plade for mercy, as it 
would be to soften yer kind heart and bow it 
to His will,” said Peggy. 

Then she told him of Mctmmy Honey’s dy- 
ing prayers, and of her faith for poor Ireland ; 
and while on this theme, the wagon rolled up 
heavily into the paved yard of the “ O’Con- 
nor’s Arms Inn,” where they were to rest for 
the night. 

Another day’s ride brought them to the city 
whither tliey were bound. The wagoner re- 
fused to give the little blue box and its owner 
into any stranger’s care. After attending to 
the animals, which he dignified by the name 
of “ harses,” but which bore a remarkable 


SOWING BY THE WATSIBE. 151 

resemblance to the mule family, he shouldered 
the box, and, followed by Peggy, made his way 
to Berkely Terrace, with Miss Grey’s card in 
his hand. 

When they reached the door and Peggy read 
“ Grey ” on the thin, broad brass plate, she 
said, ‘‘ And now we must part, friend. I 
thank ye for yer goodness, so unlike what I 
looked for at the startin’, when I heerd an oath 
and saw the blow ye give the craturs ! Niver an 
oath did I hear from ye, nor yet a blow but that 
one. If ye don’t love nor fear the Lord for His 
own sake, plaze, for my sake, niver sware more. 
Look after yer soul, dear man ; and if iver ye 
or yer wife nade a friend* Miss Grey will know 
where ye’ll find Peggy Sheehan. Farewell.” 

Poor Miss Grey, herself far from young or 
strong, was engaged in her never-failing task 
of settling disputes between her feeble and 
childish mother and an impatient nurse, when 
Peggy was announced as a queer, dressed 
body witli a blue wood box in her arms.” 

Entering her sitting-room, the lady was 
amazed to see a stranger standing there on a 


152 • 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


pocket-handkerchief, holding a trunk in her 
arms, afraid to set it down lest she might in- 
jure the carpet, never having trod on one be- 
fore. When the lady recognized her, she said, 
‘‘ 0, Peggy, have you changed your mind and 
left that elegant home and that good husband 
to help me a little while? You’ve come in 
an hour of need. Your visit is like an an- 
gel’s. How long can you stay ? ” 

“ While ye nades me, dear lady, and I’ll 
sarve the feeble one day and night, only don’t 
ax me a question till I tell ye what’s happened 
that sent me here.” 

“ Peggy, I have not left my mother’s room 
for seven nights,” s^id Miss Grey. “ Her 
nurse has no patience and I must see that all 
are gentle with her.” 

‘‘ Och, but I’ll have hapes o’ patience, and 
ye may now slape asy, sure that I’ll be as 
tinder o’ her as if she was the gentlest lady in 
the world,” said Peggy. 

And she fulfilled her promise a thousand- 
fold. She became a nurse to the mother, a 
comforter to the daughter, an example and a 


SOWmG BY THE WAYSIDE. 


153 


teacher to the servants, — a blessing to the 
whole house ; in which we leave her for the 
present, striving to be faithful over a few 
things. 


CHAPTER Xiy, 

MISERY IN THE COTTAGE 

O N Paddy’s return to tlie cottage, after part- 
ing with his mistress on the wagon, break- 
fast was still waiting, although the hour was 
late. As he sprang over the stile he heard Nan 
call out from the door, Yer breakfast is all 
coolin’, John.” John returned her no answer, 
but followed Paddy to his own quarters without 
raising his head or speaking. 

A’n’t ye for ony breakfast this morning, 
masther ? ” asked Paddy, assuming an air of 
jocoseness. 

“ Not yet, Paddy ; Pll wait till Peggy comes,” 
he replied. 

Will ye? Och, then, ye’ll shtarve to dith, 
I can promise ye that,” replied Paddy, with a 
smart nod of his head. 

“ Do ye know where she is ? ” asked John. 


154 


MISERY IN THE COTTAGE. 


155 


“ ’Dade I do,” was the answer. 

John looked at him, expecting to hear that 
she had taken refuge with Mrs. Murray, or 
some of her other friends in Cloynmally. But 
Paddy began to whistle carelessly, and to pre- 
pare his humble breakfast. 

The wretched man groaned aloud, but still 
Paddy whistled a gay tune, as if to make Mm 
as miserable as possible by contrast with his 
own mirth. 

“ Where is yer misthress, then, if ye know ? ” 
asked John, in a sharp tone. 

“ She’s where ye can’t find her ! Nobody 
knows where but thim that’s got her, and 
poor Paddy, that loves her faithful, though he 
never tuW oath to do it afore God^s altar! 
Now ! ” cried Paddy, triumphantly. 

“ Whist, man ! ” exclaimed John. ‘‘ Do ye 
know who ye’re talkin’ to ? ” 

‘‘ To yersilf., masther. Do ye know who 
yeWe talkin’ to ? Becase I can tell ye it’s a 
small excuse will take me off Daisy Farm now ! 
My riputation’s at stake, and as I’ve always 


156 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


lived with dacent people, I’m resalved to do 
so still ! Mind, I’m not tied down by a family 
now, and I may turn out a great traveller yet. 
Who knows ? ” 

Again John, groaned. He felt that the poor, 
simple work-house boy, whom he had from 
boyhood both despised and patronized, was 
now his superior and his master, looking down 
on him with contempt. He knew, also, that 
Paddy was possessed of a secret which he had 
not power to extort from him ; and, with his 
head bowed and his hands clasped behind him, 
he went to his work in the field without break- 
ing bis fast. 

At nightfall, when Paddy returned from the 
peat-bog where he had been all day at work, 
he seated himself on the door-stone of the 
cottage, to wait for his milk. His heart was 
gladdened by sounds of discord from within, 
and not being remarkably delicate on points of 
honor, he placed himself where he could hear 
without being seen. 

‘‘Nannie, Pd beg ye on my bended knees 


MISERY IN THE COTTAGE. 


157 


to go to yer mother, or off where ye plaze, 
and let the broken-hearted jewel back to her 
home.” 

“ The cottage is big enough for us both,” 
replied Nan ; “ but she’s that selfish that she’ll 
have the whole or none ; so she’s tuk the last. 
She’ll run back when the first strange man 
looks her in the face ! ” 

“ It would take more than that to frighten 
ye^ then ! ” exclaimed John, tartly. 

“ ’Deed it would ; a hundred o’ em couldn’t do 
it ! ” said Nan, bravely. 

“ Ye are a bould woman, and I hid ye to 
depart at once out o’ my house. Ye’ll ruin 
my riputation in Killyrooke,” cried John. 

“ Ye’ve none left to be hurted,” slie said. 
“ Only this morning I heerd two lads say o’ ye, 
‘There’s the Protestant church of Killyrooke.’ 
Yer character is gone, but a man may live 
without that^ if he has enough to ate. Keep 
ye asy now, and I’ll tind to yer cottage and 
dairy, for Peg gave me all her nate ways.” 

“ I will niver ’bide ye ! ” cried John, reso- 
lutely. “ I’ll put an end to my life, or I’ll run 


158 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


off to Amerikj, to be rid of ye. I hates ye, 
and yer whole race, for the evil ye’ve brought 
on this house and on my name.” 

By this time Nan, deaf to his words, was 
singing in a merry voice a snatch of a nonsen- 
sical song, as if he was not worth replying to. 

Poor, miserable, irresolute dupe that John 
was ! He saw that liis wife was heart-broken 
and gone, and his character ruined, and he gave 
np all for lost. Before the sun set that day it 
spread through the village, — all alive with in- 
dignation before, — that Peggy had returned to 
her cottage, and finding Nan installed as mis- 
tress, had fled for ever ; and there were few of 
either church so heartless as not to pity the 
suffering wife, and to censure those who had 
so cruelly wronged her. And very few women 
were sunk so low as to cross the threshold to 
speak with Nan. 

Poor, ruined John sank into a settled melan- 
choly. He walked about the farm with his hat 
drawn over his eyes, and turned away from 
every neighbor he met, without saluting him. 
He forsook his seat in God’s house, and cast 


MISERY IN THE COTTAGE. 


159 




aside even the forms of religion. He would 
not go to market, but trusted Paddy with his 
business and his money. He felt his degrada- 
tion not only when former friends turned from 
liim, but more so when the very beggars, who 
had always found a welcome at the cottage, 
■passed it by without a glance. His only 
visitors now were the family and the hoyden 
companions of Nan, who all made as free at 
the cottage as if it were their own. The only 
peace John had now, was when Nan went 
off with these friends, as she often did, to 
merry-makings for a week or more at a time. 
Then Paddy would return to the table and to 
his old bed in the loft ; and John would grow 
strong, and prophesy that she would never re- 
turn. But when her money was gone, and she 
was weary with tramping about, back she 
would come, causing John to turn pale, and 
Paddy to flee, as if she were a phantom of the 
pestilence. 

But through all those long days and years, 
although Paddy had heard frequently of his 
mistress and had seen her once, he had never 


160 


GEMS OF THE BOG- 


■Sf 


spoken her name to John, and if his master 
littered it, he would say, “ Take care ! ye’ll 
burn yer tongue if ye spake o’ yon one.” 
Seeing how the name of his mother stung him, 
Paddy took a savage delight in calling up her 
memory and her instructions, whenever they 
were at work together. “ Will, will ! ” he 
would say, in irony, “ but it was fine tachin’ 
she gave us both in religion, sure, and a good 
use we’re makin’ o’t ! I’m thinkin’ o’ tamin’ 
Protestint mysilf, when I sees what ilegant 
Christians that church makes ! Yis, yis, we’re 
makin’ good headway, you and me, masther, 
to where she is now. It’s a strange thing, 
indade, that the whole town do not all lave 
Father Clakey in the lurch, and run to Mr. 
Murray, when they sees what angils he makes 
out o’ men. Say, masther, do ye belave that 
the saints aboove — Misthress Honey, and the 
like o’ her — looks down and sees what’s goin’ 
on below ? ” 

No matter how insolent or how tantalizing 
Paddy was, John dared not rebuke him, lest 
he might take it into his head to go off on 


MISERY IN THE COTTAGE. 


161 


“ the travels” he was constantly holding np as 
a threat, and the poor, erring man felt that 
there he would not have a mortal to speak to. 

J ust before Paddy went, at Mr. Murray’s re^ 
quest, to carry a letter of comfort to his mis- 
tress, he took occasion to irritate his master 
beyond endurance ; and when rebuked for his 
insolence, he packed up his all in bundles, 
which he hung on pegs in the cow-house, 
donned ‘‘the ould masther’s Sunday shute,” 
shouldered his oaken statf, and set off appar- 
ently ill high dudgeon. When at the end of 
a week “ he came back for his bundles,” John 
went to the cow-house and implored him not 
to forsake him. By some cunning on Paddy’s 
part, and an offer of higher wages on John’s, 
tlie matter was adjusted ; and thenceforth the 
master took good care not to give farther occa- 
sion for a separation, fully believing that 
Paddy had been off to look for a new place. 


CHAPTER XV. 

ON THE MOUNT. 

T here is a high point in the Christian’s 
upward journey whence he may look down 
on all below as on the playthings of childhood, 
or tlie vain pleasures of youth. Even the 
things which belong to himself lose their size 
and their importance in the distance, and fade 
into nothingness, in compainson with the calm 
glories by which he is surrounded on the 
mount. The home that once he called his 
own, but from which misfortunes have driven 
him, no longer seems the one only spot where 
he can live or die. Whether it be palace or 
cottage, it sinks into insignificance beside the 
home of ‘‘ many mansions,” with a glimpse of 
which he has been favored. The treasures 
of gold, or merchandise, or harvest, all grow 
poor in the eyes of him who has the earnest of 


162 


ON THE MOUNT. 


163 


lieaven and its eternal wealth already in his 
soul. Sorrows, as well as joys, are regarded 
witli other eyes than of yore. The grave 
where tlie beloved were hidden when torn 
from the bleeding heart, is now only a peaceful 
bed ; and the dear sleepers are not dead, but 
living and loving still. 

“ Hope then lifts her radiant finger, 

Pointing to the eternal home, 

On -whose portals they yet linger. 

Looking back for us to come.’* 

Even the erring among his heart’s dear 
treasures, — those who have wandered far from 
God, and for whose salvation he would lay 
down his life, — their case seems not so utterly 
hopeless when seen from this hight, as when 
lie walked on the low ground beside them. 
As he learns more of God’s power, he sees 
also the weakness of Satan’s chain. As he 
learns more of His holiness and mercy, he 
casts away his fears, and trusts the wanderers 
with Him. Even if their sun may seem to set 
in darkness, he still sees “ light in His light,” 


164 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


and bows to His will, sure that the Judge of 
the wliole earth will do right. 

That there is such a hight as this in Chris- 
tian experience, we know from the testimony 
of those, few though they be, who have 
reached it, and who move among us still, 
while they live on the verge of heaven and 
breathe its peaceful air. 

To this summit our humble heroine rose 
on that night when, after a fearful struggle, 
she gave up her mother to God, and kissed the 
rod which had so sorely smitten her. And 
although at times dark clouds had gathered 
around and obscured the light for a little 
season, she had never descended again to the 
dark valley where before she had walked and 
stumbled like a weak and timid child. The 
littleness of earth and the greatness of all 
beyond were so deeply impressed on her mind, 
that life thenceforth became to her of vast 
value. Every moment was consecrated to use- 
ful toil, and in this blessed activity she forgot, 
in a measure, her own sorrows. Love to 


ON THE MOUNT. 


165 


others, and earnest efforts to carry that love 
out into action, are sovereign balms for the 
wounded spirit. 

possessed that rare faculty of lighten- 
ing every body’s burdens while seeming to do 
but little. Without any bustle or stir she had 
become sole nurse for the poor failing mother 
of Miss Grey. 

The servants were not slow to see how their 
own toil was lessened ; and so, from selfish 
motives if from no other, they treated her with 
that respect which they hoped would keep 
lier long there. Miss Grey had at first spoken 
of her in the house as a connection of her old 
nurse, whose presence would be a great com- 
fort to them all, and had bidden the servants 
to address her as “ Misthress Sheehan ; ” and 
they were always civil to one for whom their 
mistress manifested so much regard, and who 
was such a comfort to her in her own weak- 
ness and trouble. 

Miss Grey was herself one of the pure in 
heart, but she was encompassed with trials, 
and was the subject of nervous depression 


166 


GEMS OF THE BOG, 


which at times cast shadows over her mind, 
and left her to grope in the darkness and to 
write bitter things against herself. Her 
earlier life had been one of health and of 
activity in all that was good ; but the confine- 
ment of years in a sick room had broken down 
both health and spirits, and liad forced her to 
relinquish every work but that of giving. 
And now, forgetting the great labor and sacri- 
fice she had been making at home, she looked 
upon herself as an idler in the vineyard, a 
cumberer of the ground. 

When quiet and order were restored to the 
house after the death of Mrs. Grey, Peggy 
thought her work was done in Berkeley Ter- 
race. One day, after many thanks to Miss 
Grey for her kindness, she opened the subject 
of a new place, saying, “ And now, dear lady, 
as I’ll be but an idler here, I’ve thought well 
to look about me for work. But I’d like it to 
be work that would call for not only strong 
arms, but a lovin’ heart and hapes o’ patience. 
If I could go into some hospital or ’syluin, 
where old people war to be humored like 


ON TEE MOUNT. 


167 


cliilder, or where little ones war to be tinded 
and rared np, I’d like it well. My heart’s 
that full o’ desire for work, that I be draming 
o’ nights that I’m gatherin’ flocks o’ little 
childer in my arms and coverin’ ’em up with 
my shawl from the wind and the storm. I’d 
be glad to make sunshine in some place like o’ 
them, and so, may be, I might lade some wan- 
derer, great or small, to the heaven that 
seems just at my hand. Dear lady, it is* so 
near my sperit, that when I shuts my eyes I 
feels that I’m in it a’ready ! ” 

“ Well, Misthress Sheehan,” replied Miss 
Grey, ‘‘ I have an hospital and an asylum all 
ready for you. I’m ‘ patient ’ enough to begin 
with. I need all your care and skill for the 
present ; and when my health is improved so 
that I can return to my old labors, we will 
look after my poor people and friendless little 
children. I am not asking you to remain here 
for your sake, but for mine. If you leave me, 
I must have some one in your place ; and who 
can be such a nurse for both body and mind ? 
I shall call you my friend and companion, and 


168 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


while you help me, I may be able to help 
you.” 

“ Och, but that would be work for the heart, 
indade ! But I’m afeard I’d grow idle with 
such an asy life,” said Peggy. 

“ Make it as toilsome as you please,” replied 
Miss Grey. “ I have eight or ten poor people 
for whose comfort I once felt myself respon- 
sible. Of late years I have done nothing for 
them but to send their little pittance weekly. 
We will look them all up again and see to 
their wants. One of them is blind ; to her you 
can read the Bible she loves so much.” 

“ Och, dear lady, but ye knows well how I 
stumbles at the long words. Ye mind what 
work I made with the hard names the day the 
poor old lady, yer mother, would have me 
read about the handwritin’ on the wall.” 

“ Well, pass over those parts till you prac- 
tice more,” said Miss Grey. “ There are 
many beautiful chapters and psalms without a 
hard word in them.” 

“ I’ve thought o’ that same many times, 
dear lady ; and what a marcy it is to the igno- 


ON THE MOUNT. 


169 


rant bodies like me. All about the Lord Jesus 
and His salvation is as plain as the sun. One 
that could but only spell bis words could make 
out, ‘ I am the way, the truth and the life ; ’ 
or, ‘ Come unto Me all ye that labor and are 
hivy laden, and I will give you rest.’ It’s 
just the very book for the poor and simple ; 
and I’ll strive to read it better, that I may get' 
a bearin’ for it whenever I goes among yer 
poor and sick ones.” 

“ Misthress Sheehan,” replied Miss Grey, 
“ I have a work for little children on my 
heart, if I knew how to accomplish it. We 
had for many years a housekeeper with a little 
child. Fanny Bond was taught to read, and 
write, and sew ; and my mother, being very 
fond of her, resolved to give her an easier life 
than a servant’s ; to have her taught a trade, 
perhajis. She and her mother ate at a table 
by themselves, and Fanny, who never asso- 
ciated with the servants in the kitchen, nor 
learned their ways, grew up an amiable and in- 
teresting girl. 

“ My brother’s regiment was recalled from 


170 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


India some years ago, and he brought home 
with him a young Englishman as his at- 
tendant, who had been one of his subordin- 
ate officers. He was very amusing, and had 
curious arts for killing time in the camp, 
which made him a great favorite, not only 
with his comrades but also with the officers. 
But he had not the art of making a living, and 
thought no more of preparing for the future 
than if he were not a reasoning man. Being 
now discharged from the army, he lived on 
from day to day, always proposing to leave the 
house to begin some work, but not doing so 
for months. 

Against the advice and entreaty of her 
mother and the commands of mine, Fanny 
married this Sam Wells and went with him to 
England, where he admitted he had neither 
home nor prospects. Well, like many other 
simple girls, she found out her error when too 
late. She came back to her mother three or 
four years afterward, with two pretty babies, 
saying that he had gone to look for work, and 
would soon come for her. 


ON THE MOUNT. 


171 


“We provided a room for her iu a house 
near by, and did all in our power to rouse her 
to do something for herself. But she was 
always looking for her husband, and getting 
ready to follow him at a moment’s notice. 
We could not learn that he had been unkind 
to her, but felt sure he would never provide for 
her ; and so we strove to keep her where we 
could see that her children were cared for. 
One day, after long and anxious waiting, she 
came to my mother, almost wild with hope de- 
ferred. She had an impression that Sam was 
in danger of being pressed into the service 
again, and begged for a guinea to take her to 
the seaport where the men-of-war were lying. 
Leaving her little ones with a kind widow who 
lived in the house with her, she set off, and 
was never heard of afterward. We feared at 
first that she had met her husband, and with 
him had deserted the children ; but we finally 
decided, from her excited manner when she 
left us, that she had destroyed herself in a fit 
of discouragement. Her poor old mother paid 
out all her wages for the board of the little 


172 


GEMS OF THE BOG, 


girls, and I clothed them. But Betty Bond’s 
heart broke under the dreadful suspense of 
watching and waiting for the return of her 
only child ; and then the little ones were left 
alone in the world. My brother felt some 
compunctions of conscience for having brought 
the young man to the house, and he paid their 
board while he lived. Since his death, I have 
done so, but I fear they are sadly neglected for 
all that. Previous to my mother’s sickness we 
had discussed several plans for their benefit, 
none of which could be carried out then. I 
have thought that, perhaps, after we are all 
a little rested, you would take the care of 
them. We shall have this large house to our- 
selves, and can easily spare two rooms for 
them. Their table could be spread with yours, 
and you could teach and train them as you 
please — you may have them for your children, 
if you like, and I will bear all their expenses.” 

Peggy threw up her hands in amazement, 
and then clasped them tightly, and raised her 
eyes in thankfulness toward heaven. 

‘‘ Och, but there would be work for a 


ON THE MOUNT. 


173 


quane ! ” she said, “ and I’d iiiver weary o’ 
lovin’ and laborin’ for the poor lambies. And, 
hear lady, I’d be more grateful than I can iver 
tell, both to God and to ye, for the lovely work 
and the peaceful home, without even goiii’ 
abroad to seek ather.” 

Miss Grey soon changed Peggy’s peasant-like 
appearance into that of a comely matron, by 
exchanging the coarse cotton gowns she had 
brought with her and which she had worn in 
the sick-room, for neat black dresses. The 
thick cambric caps, with full, broad frills, were 
exchanged for those of thin muslin, while a 
kerchief of the same material was crossed 
under the half-open waist, over her bosom. 
Her hair though turning grey was still abund- 
ant ; but her face was far paler and thinner 
than that of the Peggy of other days. 

Not long after the conversation just repeated, 
Miss Grey brought little Bessie and Marion 
Wells to the pleasant upper rooms she had had 
prepared for them, and which she playfully 
called, “ The Orphan Asylum.” 


174 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


At the first sight of their sad little faces, 
Peggy took them both to her lieart. They wore 
that depressed look which told there had been 
no play for them, and they moved about as if 
fearful of the sound of their own footfalls. The 
poor things had been well fed and clotlied and 
sheltered by Miss Grey’s generosity ; but they 
had not been loved or petted ; and these are as 
important items in the training of a merry, 
happy child as are food and clothing. If they 
had been defrauded of this hitherto, they were 
to be fully repaid in the future. 

Bessie Wells was a tall, thin child of six 
.years, whose sad blue eyes were always swim- 
ming in tears that were never shed, and over- 
hung by lashes so long and dark that they 
seemed not to belong by right to blue eyes and 
fair hair. Marion, four years and a half old, 
who called herself ‘‘ Madie,” was a sweet, 
curly-headed child, who seemed ever craving 
tlie lost attentions which are the just due of 
babyhood. She had not been ten minutes in 
the house, before she had climbed on Peggy’s 


ON THE MOUNT. 


175 


knee to stroke her motherly face, and to say, 
“ Pretty, kind lady ; Madie loves you, and will 
be a good child.” 

A happy and useful life was now begun in ear- 
nest by this faithful woman. God had sent work 
to her hand in answer to her prayers, and she 
had accepted it as a great honor. She devoted 
her first morning hours to Miss Grey, and then 
fled to her little charge, who watched eagerly 
for her foot-steps on the stair. When their real 
wants were all supplied for the day, she applied 
herself to making little garments for them, 
under Miss Grey’s direction ; and while she 
sewed or knitted, she told them stories from the 
Bible, and taught them verses from Watts’ 
Hymns for the Infant Mind,” as well as the 
pleasant old stories in verse by Jane Taylor. 
When they grew weary, she took first one and. 
then the other on her knee, and sang to them, 
or amused them with the toys and pictures 
Miss Grey had provided. This sudden transit 
from a gloomy room in a tenement, where were 
three or four baby boarders younger than 
themselves, who must never be wakened by a 


176 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


laugli or a cry, was like passing from a cheer- 
less and silent cave into a blooming paradise. 

And Peggy stood on this high mount with 
“ tlie great peace ” still in her soul unbroken. 
While she prayed without ceasing for the lost 
one far away, she always added, “ I lave him 
in Thy hand, and where could be a safer 
place ? 


CHAPTER XYI. 

AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 

F or four long years tlie black cloud hung 
over Daisy Farm ; for four long years the 
serpent with a human face moved through the 
rooms of the cottage ; for four long years its 
poisoned sting rankled and festered in the 
heart of the exiled wife, who was patient in her 
tribulation, but in tribulation still. 

Great changes had now taken place in the 
humble little hamlet of Killyrooke, both by 
death and emigration. 

The poor, useless head of the family over 
the way from Daisy Farm, who had long been 
too indolent to do any thing but breathe, had 
lost the energy required even for that small 
effort, and so, one day, without any other ap- 
parent cause, he slipped out of life. 

A year previous to this event, his two eldest 


12 


177 


178 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


boys, who had long been impatient to get* off 
to Australia, but could never get money 
enough for their passage, were unexpectedly 
treated to the voyage at the expense of a gener- 
ous Government. The haste in the case was 
owing to some little ‘‘irregularities” in their 
business — the deer-trade ; in which they were 
accused by the owner of Harpley Hall, of 
living on his venison rather than on their own 
potatoes.. 

Tlie younger boys who were large enough 
to work were put out by the parish officers, and 
the improvident motlier and her small children 
were glad of a shelter in the workhouse. They 
were scarcely gone, when one night, not long 
afterward, a bonfire swept away all traces of 
that poor home of sin and sorrow. 

The intruder at Daisy Farm had been stoutly 
affirming for two years past that Peggy was 
dead, and that she herself was married' to John. 
Some believed her, and regarded her as now the 
rightful mistress of the cottage. But the most 
respectable among the people kept aloof from 
her, and Father Clakey had twice ordered her 


AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 


179 


out of the church. This caused her great un- 
easiness, as she feared she might die without 
absolution, and be denied a Christian burial. 
She tried to buy the old man’s favor with 
gifts of butter and eggs, but he was inexorable, 
and sent them back to her with many bitter 
reproofs. 

Paddy had well nigh lost heart ; he had cer- 
tainly lost all patience. His “ grimaces ” at 
tlie object of his hatred'; his faithfulness — 
John called it “insolence” — to his master; 
and his prayers to the Virgin had all failed to 
right matters at the cottage. 

One day, having been reproved for careless- 
ness in trimming a hedge, he turned upon 
John, saying, “ Don’t ye be rebukin’ me for an 
onfaithful sarvant! Pm honest and upright, 
and can look every man in Ireland square in 
the eye, and that’s more nor my masther can 
do ! My sperit’s fearful roused, and I warn ye 
it’s dangerous triflin’ with an angered lion ! 
Some day ye’ll find ather yersilf murdered, or 
poor Paddy drownded in the lough. So ye’ll 
add murder to yer other sins.” 


180 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


John groaned, and walked away a few steps. 
Then he turned back, and said, “ Och, Paddy, 
Paddy, if ye but knew the anguish o’ my heart 
ye'd pity me place o’ ’torturin’ me thus ! If 
ye, or Mr. Murray, or any other one thinks I’m 
at ase, ye’re sore mistaken. I’d lay down my 
life this hour to make my peace with God and 
poor dear ” 

“ Hi, there ! ” cried Paddy, “ don’t let me 
hear that name. Why don’t ye lay down yer 
life, then, or do somethin’ else ? ” 

What shall I do ? ” exclaimed John. 

“ Say yer prayers,” replied Paddy. 

'‘Paddy, I can’t pray. When I tries to 
spake to God, that poor white face, wet with 
patient tears, comes atween me and heaven,” 
replied John. 

“ O’ course it does ! ” cried the poor fellow. 
“ Did ye think God would hear ye and sind ye 
pace till ye first make a turn o’ things at the 
cottage ? That would be like a poacher askin’ 
pardon o’ the gintleman at the Hall, at the 
same time he was loadin’ his gun to shoot 
more deer.” 


AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 


181 


John leaned against the stile where Paddy 
was sitting, pipe in mouth, taking his evening 
rest ; and the tears ran down his cheeks. 

‘‘ I wish I’d never been born ! ” he cried. 

‘‘ I wish ye hadn’t,” answered his reprover. 

‘‘ I dramed last night that ye drove off the 
sarpint, and that then the black cloud rolled 
away, and the sun shone aboove us all, and 
that Mammy Honey came back to ’bide with 
us, and to watch us that we’d never fall into 
sin more,” said John, mournfully. 

“ Tush ! ” cried Paddy, scornfully. ‘‘ A man 
more nor six feet high, weighin’ two hundred 
pound, might behave himself civil without his 
blissed mother lavin’ heaven, where she’s so 
comfortable, to come and look after him ! But 
I’m glad to see yer heart gettin’ a bit soft, 
aven at this late day, and if it hadn’t been 
made o’ flint it would ha’ melted long ago. 
Think o’ the holy tachin’ o’ yer mother, and 
the fine example o’ myself. 

“What shall I do?” cried John again, in 
his anguish and indecision. 

“ Do ye remember the old fable o’ the rat 


182 


GEMS OF TEE BOG. 


that was caught in a trap ? She ate her own 
head off rather than give the waitin’ cat the 
satisfaction o’ doin’ it ! Now if ye can think 
o’ no better way o’ escape, jump into the lough 
and drown yerself,” remarked Paddy, com- 
posedly. 

“ But I have a soul., man ! ” cried John. 

“ Och, have ye ? I thought ye hadn’t,” was 
the reply. “ Sure, it’s a strange soul for a 
Christian, oiiy way.” 

“ Pm not a Christian andniverwas, Paddy.” 

‘‘ liidade ! Are ye a hathen, then ? ” The 
simple man knew of no middle ground between 
the two conditions. 

Not just quite a hathen,” replied his mas- 
ter. / 

“ What are ye, then ? ” 

‘‘ I’m a great sinner, Paddy.” 

‘‘ Ye niver spoke a truer word, masther, and 
yet I can’t just comprehend how ye were niver 
a Christian in yer best days ? ” . 

“ No, never, in heart, like them two we 
loved, and heaps like them in Cloynmally. 

‘‘ I’d give all I have in the world, Paddy, to 


AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 183 

Lear Mr. Murray’s voice again in the church, 
and to get a kind word from his lips,” said 
John, mournfully. 

“ Well, the church door is open and his 
tongue is not palsied yit, I belave,” replied 
Paddy. “ But if ye’d like a sarmon from one 
that’s nather priest nor parson, ye’ll get it by 
goin’ to the lough on Sunday next. There’s a 
fine young jintleman stoppin’ at Mr. Mur- 
ray’s, that has a mind to spake on religion to 
thim as niver goes to that church ; and 
he’s given word that as the young men gathers 
by the water to fish and to skip stones and the 
like, that he’ll be there among thim. He’s 
been at games with the Cloynmally boys the 
week gone, pitchin’ quoits ; and they say he’s 
a fine hand at a game.” 

“ We’ll go to hear him, Paddy,” said John, 
“ and may be he’ll put a bit o’ strength into 
me.” 

He ? Ye could take him up in one hand 
and hould him out at arm’s lingth ! ” cried 
Paddy. 


184 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


‘‘ Ocli, but he may have a bigger and 
stronger heart nor I,” said John. 

‘‘ Yery like he has, or it’s a poor one,” re- 
turned the reprover, in language more faithful 
than delicate. 

“ Paddy, lad, why can ye not show me some 
marcy ? ” cried John. 

“Because the Protestant Bible taches to 
show marcy to the marciful only. And on 
thim grounds what right have ye to ask or ix- 
pect tinder regards from a vartuous and onera- 
ble man like mesilf ! ” • 

“ Yer mistaken, Paddy. It says, ‘ Blissed 
are the marciful, for they shall obtain marcy ; ’ 
but it does not say others shall not find it. 
The world is full o’ proofs o’ God’s pity and 
marcy to many that’s gone asthray from him. 
But none ever got so far wrong as mesilf, after 
such lovely trainin’ from the cradle up ; ” said 
John. 

“Will, thin, I’m not as lamed as Mr. 
Murray, to instruct nor yet to condimn ye ; so 
I’ll kape ye waitin’ for consolation till ye sees 


AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 185 

this new-come jiiitlemaii ; I thin will fall on 
him with puzzlin’ questions on religion, and 
see what he’s made on ! If there’s ony pluck 
in him to stand his ground agin my church, as 
if he knew the difference in the two, we’ll 
trust him with yer case, — though it’s a 
shameful and disgraceful and onrispictable one 
to intertain company with ! We’ll be first at 
the lough, masther, on Sunday, waitin’ him 
there.” 


CHAPTER XYII. 

LAY-PREACHING AT THE LOUGH. 

O N tlie following Sunday afternoon a crowd 
gathered around the lough, the usual 
rallying-place when mass and dinner were 
over. They had been warned against listening 
to heresy ; but curiosity was stronger than 
fear. Some came to hear about games in 
England ; some to look at the strange gentle- 
man ; and others to watch for heresy and put a 
stop to its utterance. John and Paddy were 
there among the rest. Presently there was a 
stir ; and those who were fishing drew in their 
lines and wound them up. All pressed 
towards a grassy bank overhung by four old 
willows ; for there the Murray boys appeared 
with their guest, a “ boyish jintleman ” of 
twenty-one or two, wdth a very slender frame, 
and a face as fair and delicate as a girl’s. He 


186 


LAY-PREACHim AT THE LOUGH, 187 

lield a book in bis hand, the sight of which 
caused alarm at once. 

‘‘ Now, boys,” muttered an old man, “ it’s 
just as ye war warned ! He’s one o’ thim 
artful Methodises — a Bible reader — a fearful, 
dangerous fellow ! ” 

The words caught the young man’s ear, but 
not letting that be known, he said, ‘‘ Good-day, 
friends. What a beautiful place you have 
here for rest and exercise ! I never saw a 
lovelier sheet of water than this, nor a more 
beautiful playground ; and as I’ve been great 
at games, I’ve looked well to the grounds. I 
heard at Cloynmally that you always met here 
on Sunday, and so I’ve come to see you, and 
talk a little to you about things that we all be- 
lieve. I’m no minister, and can’t preach. 
I’m only going to talk ; and you have as good 
a right to talk here as I have. So any of you 
may speak out and ask questions, or contradict 
me, if I say what’s not right.” 

‘‘ What book’s yon in your hand ? ” asked 
the old schoolmaster, who had better been 


188 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


styled “ the village cliild’s-iiurse,” as his ten 
pupils were too young to learn from books. 

‘‘ This book, friend, is the Douay version of 
the Bible, prepared by a Catholic priest and 
used in your church. I will not open it unless 
you wish. I’ve not come here to argue, but to 
talk on things that you and I agree in. We 
will let other things go.” 

“ But ye’re a Protestant ? ” asked a voice 
from the crowd. 

“ Yes, I am.” 

“ Then in what can ye agree with us ? ” 
asked the schoolmaster, who regarded himself 
as the spy and watchman of the hour. 

“ Oh, in many things, friend,” replied the 
youth. “You believe in a God who made the 
world and all who dwell in it, and who sends 
the sun and the rain to ripen our harvests, 
that we may have bread, and so live ? ” 

“ Oh, sure, we believe in him ! ” 

“ Och, yes, yes ! ” replied many voices. 

“And so do I, friends. You believe that 
God sent His Son, Jesus Christ, into the 


LAY-PRE ACHING AT THE LOUGH. 189 

world, and that He died on the cross to save 
all who trust in Him, don’t you ? ” 

“ O’ course we belaves that.” 

“ Yes, yes.” “ Indade we does ! ” were the 
varied replies. 

‘‘ And so do I. And you believe in the 
Virgin Mary, too, don’t you ? ” 

“ Ay, do we ; but ye don’t,” said a man. 

“ You’re mistaken, friend ; I do believe in 
her and I honor her. She was ‘ blessed among 
women.’ God honored her above all women 
ever born before or after her, in making her 
the mother of His Son, the Redeemer of the 
world.” 

“ I thought all the Protestants despised 
Mary,” said one. 

“ None but a great scoffer could despise her 
whom God so greatly honored,” said the 
young man. 

“ But you don’t pray to her ? ” said the 
schoolmaster. 

“No, I pray only to God, the Father, Son 
and Holy Spirit ; but this is a point on which 
we disagree ; and we were to talk of those only 


190 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


on which we think alike. You believe in 
Peter, don’t you ? ” 

“ Peter ? Oh, sure we do ; he it is as holds 
the keys.” 

“ You believe that he wrought miracles ? ” 

“ Surely ; all the saints do that.” 

“ Would you like to hear from your own 
Bible how Peter and John healed the lame 
man at the gate of the temple ? ” 

‘‘ Are you just sure it’s not the Protestant 
Bible ? ” asked a timid-looking man in the 
crowd. 

“ Quite sure, friend. You may take it and 
show it to Father Clakey, and if he says it is 
not the one he uses, but a Protestant version, 
you may do what you please with it.” 

So they all sat motionless while he read the 
narratives of the healing of the lame man, and 
of Christ’s walking on the water, stilling the 
tempest, and feeding the multitude. Wlien he 
closed the book, he said, “ You notice, friends, 
that when Jesus saw the multitude He had 
compassion on them. It is not on them alone, 
but on us here, and on all who are in want 


LAY-PREACHINQ AT THE LOUGH. 191 

and sorrow. His compassion has not failed 
now that He has returned to His glory. He 
still hears* and sees, and is ready to grant what 
we need. That multitude were hungry. Is 
there any one here who ever knew what it was 
to be hungry, when there’s no food in the cot- 
tage and no money to buy any ? ” 

“ Ay ! ” “ ’Deed there is ! ” “ Few but has 

known it, sir ! ” “ Ye’ve heard, in England, 

o’ the famine we had here when the potatoes 
failed, and the great sickness came ? ” These 
were among the many answers to his question. 

“ Yes, I’ve heard all that.” 

“ I wonder if there’s one here hungry 
to-day ? ” he asked. 

“ I bees, yer honor,” said a trembling old 
woman, who sat on the grass near him, ‘‘ and 
not a handful o’ meal in the house ! ” 

“ Then here’s a crown for you, poor friend,” 
said the young man. Jesus has compassion 
on you, and perhaps He sent me here to tell 
you so.” 

An old man rose to his feet, but sat down 
again, as if too modest to make his plea. 


192 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


“ Who’s that, boys ? ” asked the gentleman. 

‘‘ It’s ould Jemmy Flynn, a real dacent 
body ! ” cried several at once. 

“ Then here’s a crown for him too, and I’ve 
still another for any one that’s poor or sick. 
But I’m sure all that can work have too much 
honor to take what should be given to the 
needy.” Strange as it may seem, among a 
class proverbial as beggars, no one else applied 
for help. 

“ Hunger is not the greatest sorrow,” con- 
tinued the young man. “ If there is any one 
here with other troubles, remember Jesus is 
among us, and He has compassion on you.” 

“ Plase, sir, I lost my baby, and my heart’s 
broke, and I can’t ate nor slape I’m that 
hungry for him. My arms is so empty they 
aches all day and all night,” said a pale 
woman, pressing througli the crowd. 

‘‘ Jesus’ own mother had her heart broken 
too, when the cruel Jews were crucifying her 
Son. He pitied her, and He told John to take 
her for his mother, and to comfort her, and he 
did so. He will comfort you too, if you ask 


LAY-PREACHING AT THE LOUGH. 193 

Him, and fill your soul with His love, so that 
you can think with joy of your baby, and of the 
time when you shall take it again in those 
poor acliing arms,’’ said the stranger, with pity 
in his voice. 

The people, finding he had a word for all, 
pressed around him and began telling him their 
sorrows, half a dozen speaking at once. 

At last he said, “ Let me say to each one of 
you, no matter what your sorrow is, — or your 
sins, either, — Jesus has compassion on you.” 

All this time John and Paddy had been sit- 
ting under a willow behind the stranger. 
Paddy now touched his elbow and said, 
‘‘ ’Dade, sir, if I should till ye my throubles, 
ye’d niver belave me. Ye’d think I was makin’ 
up lies to amuse ye ! ” The young man pro- 
bably saw that it would be like letting loose a 
torrent, if he began to talk with one who bore 
so little resemblance to a mourner ; so he just 
bade liim remember what he had said to the 
others ; and, thanking them for their civility 
and bidding them good-day, he was about 
leaving, when one of the young men called 


194 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


out, “ But, sir, we heard you was to tell us 
about the games ye have in England. Will 
ye stop a bit and try a hand at pitchin’ 
quoits ? ’’ 

“ Not to-day, my good fellow ; God gives us 
six days to ourselves, but on this one, the first 
day of the week, on which the Saviour rose 
from the dead. He commands us not to do our 
own works nor think our own thoughts, 
but to keep it holy unto Him. Come here at 
sunset on Tuesday, and I will meet you as a 
boy, at healthful sport. To-day I came as a 
Christian, to tell you of Him whom my soul 
loveth, and whom I want the whole world to 
love. Take this Bible, schoolmaster, and make 
sure I have not deceived you.’’ 

As he turned to go, John rose and followed 
him. “ You don’t think, sir,” he said to him 
in a low tone, ‘‘ that He could have compassion 
on me. I’m such a fearful sinner ! I’ve been 
a hypocrite, and a Pharisee, and all that’s evil. 
O’ course you’ve heard o’ me — John Shee- 
han.” 

“No, never,” replied the young man. 


LAY-PREACHING AT THE LOUGH, 195 

“Ye haven’t? Why, I thought the whole 
world had heerd o’ me' and was cursin’ me by 
this time 1 Didn’t Mr. Murray tell ye o’ me, 
and o’ the disolation I had made in the church 
and the home ? ” 

“ Not a word, friend ; but unless your sins 
are redder than scarlet and deeper than crim- 
son, Jesus has compassion on you, and will 
forgive you.” 

“Well, sir, will ye ask Mr. Murray if he 
thinks there is power enough in Heaven to 
forgive me, without destroying the justice of 
God?” 

“ I will ask him, my poor man, and he will 
say, ‘ Yes,’ and Jesus will say unto you, ‘ Thy 
sins are forgiven thee ; go and sin no more.’ ” 

Had Protestants built a church in Killyrooke 
and sent a minister to preach in it, they could 
not thus have accomplished as much for the 
people as did that almost boy, with his heart 
full of love for Christ and of zeal in His service. 
The Bible was pronounced a “ Catholic ” one 
by the priest, and so the stranger’s word was 
verified. 


196 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


The compassion of Jesus and the miracles 
by which He proved it were the themes in 
many a poor, home that Sunday night ; and 
during the three or four weeks of his college 
vacation, that young lay-preacher did a great 
work for those cottagers. He broke down the 
barriers, so that after that, any man whom 
they respected could get an audience at the 
lough, while he read portions of Scripture from 
the Douay version and made comments on it ; 
care being used not to arouse prejudice or fear 
by openly assailing the Romish church. 


CHAPTER XYIII. 

A VISIT OF MERCY. 

W HEN the young stranger returned to the 
parsonage, he reported his doings to Mr. 
Murray, who had been too wise to accompany 
him. When he delivered John Sheehan’s 
message, a shadow passed over the minister’s 
face. 

“ He has indeed made desolation in both 
church ahd home,” he said, “ and only for the 
abounding mercy and grace of God I should 
have no hope for him ! He ran well when none 
hindered, but he was a poor, weak creature, 
without Christian principle. His parents were 
pillars in the church, though poor and unlet- 
tered folk. His mother was as nearly a saint 
as any mortal who ever walked the earth. 
They held him up, perhaps too much. 

“If one was kept in a standing-stool till he 


197 


198 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


was fully grown, without ever using his own 
limbs, I think he would fall as soon as he at- 
tempted to stand alone ; at all events, the first 
thrust from a foe would lay him low ; and once 
down, he would not know how to rise again. 

“ This man’s case has lain heavily on my 
heart. Such has been the good name they bore, 
that we always pointed the cotters to that 
family as an example of consistent walk, and 
of the power of the Gospel to keep men pure 
even when surrounded by all that is ungodly. 
The course this last one of the race has pur- 
sued, has outraged the feelings of even the 
rude and ignorant Papists about him, and 
brought contempt on the Protestant faith. I 
went three times to pull him, if might be, out 
of the fire, but he made off and would not see 
me at all, as if well pleased with the fetters in 
which Satan had bound him. If he is ever 
humbled and needs help, he will have to come 
to me for it ! ” 

The young gentleman remained silent, and 
Mr. Murray saw that the last remark did not 
meet his approbation. 


A VISIT OF MERCY. 


199 


“ You may think I am severe,” he continued, 
“ but you never saw the happy home he has 
made desolate, nor the saint-like woman who 
has meekly forsaken it without a word of cen- 
sure, or even a farewell to the minister and the 
church, who regarded her as a bright and shin- 
ing light among them, and who felt drawn 
heavenward by her quiet faith and humble zeaL 
No, I shall never go after him ! ” 

“ And yet,” said the young man, after all 
this, he has a soul ! It was sinners, and not 
the righteous, that Jesus came to save ; to seek 
as well as to save.” 

“ That is true, and we must be careful not 
to stand on our small dignity when He stooped 
so low,” replied the good minister, rebuked by 
the faith of his friend. 

“ You know brands have to be plucked from 
the burning, sir. They cannot walk forth 
from the flames themselves,” continued the 
guest. 

“ True ; and Sheehan seems to have been 
bound hand and foot by the enemy, that he 
might not only lose his own soul, but be also a 


200 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


cause of stumbling to many. Perhaps he ought 
to have a helping hand, but if I should go to 
him it might heal the wound too slightly. I 
care not how sorely he suffers, nor how long. 
As he opened his mind to you, how would it 
do for you to take his case in hand, and 
learn whether he is really repentant, or only 
longing for his old peace and respectability 
again ? ” 

“ If you will trust me, sir, I will talk with 
the poor man gladly, for his pale face has 
haunted me ever since he whispered those 
words in my ear,” replied the young man. 

“ Well, as you have promised to meet the 
boys at the lough on Tuesday, take the cottage 
on your way home, sending my boys on before 
you,” said Mr. Murray. 

“Would it not be a good work to close this 
Sabbath with, sir ? To-morrow or Tuesday he 
may be off in iKs fields, or at market, or — or 
— one of us may be in eternity ! For my own 
part, sir, I feel that I’m working by the hour 
for my Master, and may be called in from the 
field at any moment. I have hardly dared to 


A VISIT OF MERCY. 


201 


speak the word ‘ to-morrow ’ for six months 
past, ill reference to work for souls,” replied 
the youth, solemnly. 

Mr. Murray looked up in surprise at “ the 
boy,” as he called him, and replied, ‘‘ Yes, if 
you are not too weary, go now, and forget what 
I liave said calculated to discourage you, re- 
membering only that He will not break the 
bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax. If 
you see one spark of repentance, fan it ; but 
warn him not to feign sorrow for sin, under a 
desire to regain his character and his home. If 
he speaks of seeing me, advise him rather to go 
to Elder Peter. I’m too easily touched by the 
siglit of sorrow to deal with the like of him. 
Elder Peter is a son of thunder, and will be 
faithful without being too merciful.” 

“ You are sure he will not ‘ smite off the 
right ear’ instead of saying, ‘ Go and sin no 
more ’ ? ” asked the young man. “ I fear that 
old man, with his stern sense of justice, may 
lack the charity that covers a multitude of 
sins.” 

“ Well, then, my dear boy, send Sheehan to 


202 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


me, if he desires help ; and I will strive to read 
his case,” replied the minister. 

Mr. Murray took his hat and cane, tind 
walked on with his friend as far as the little 
churchyard which surrounded his chapel. They 
went in among the beds of the lowly sleepers, 
just as the last streak of the golden light was 
fading in the west. Very near the chapel door 
Mr. Murray laid his hand on a plain slate 
headstone, saying, “Here sleeps the mother 
of this man — a woman of whom the world 
was not worthy.” 

And then in a few words he told the story 
of her strong, pure life, and ended by a recital 
of her son’s indignation over her open grave', 
because a half-idiot had pronounced her safe 
in heaven — the only one there of the race or 
name ! “ And yet, see what he has done for 

her honor,” he said. “ Now go on, my boy ; 
you will have the moon for your company 
home, and may God go with you, and put 
words into your mouth.” 

The young stranger stooped and plucked a 
briar twig and three shamrock blossoms from 


A VISIT OF MERCY. 


203 


the mound where Mammy Honey was sleeping, 
and then passed down the solitary road which 
lay between the village of Cloynmally and the 
hamlet of Killyrooke. 

Ho knew the cottage, — which had been des- 
cribed to him, — by the little glass window, 
which glistened through the vines in the moon- 
light. With one bound he sprang over the stile, 
and with a few steps reached the open door. 
The room was lighted by a single rush taper, 
making the figures within very indistinct. Be- 
fore he had time to knock, he heard Paddy say, 
“ But, Masther, the young jintleman said, ‘ All 
manner of sins ’ would be forgive to people, 
and Pm sure that ye — vile as ye are — haven’t 
committed them all! Ye niver stole a ha’peth 
from any body ; ye niver warshipped gods o’ 
wood and stone ; ye niver worked on the Sab- 
bath day, — ye, nor yer donkey, nor yer man- 
servant, nor the sthranger that war within yer 
gates ; nor ye niver invied Harpley Hall, nor 
the fine things in it, to the owner, nor ” 

“ Hark, there, Paddy ! there’s some neigh- 
bor knockin’,” interrupted John. “ Come in ! ” 


204 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


“ Surely,” he continued, rising to meet the 
stranger, on whose uncovered head the moon 
was shining, “ this is not the young jintleman, 
come to visit the sperit in prison ? Did ye 
give my message to dear, dear Mr. Murray, 
sir?” asked John, looking earnestly in his 
face. 

Yes.” 

“And what said he? — that there was one 
ray of hope for me in the world to come ? In 
this world I do not look for peace ! ” 

“ He said, my friend, that but for the 
■abounding mercy and the free grace of God he 
should look on your case as a hopeless one ; 
but that if you truly repent of your sin . against 
God — not merely feel sorrow for the wreck of 
your own happiness — there is hope.” 

John took the gentleman’s hand in both his 
own, and leading him to a chair, exclaimed, 
“ 1 will lay my heart bare before ye and tell ye 
all ; and thin if ye think God can listen. I’ll 
ask ye that has a bearin’ at the marcy-seat, to 
plead with Him for me.” 

“ I do not want to hear of your sins, poor 


A VISIT OF MERCY. 


205 


man. I only want to know that you’ve for- 
saken them, and are penitent before God. He 
came not to call the righteous, but sinners to 
repentance ; and the greater your sins, the 
greater your need of Him, and the greater 
Saviour he will be to you.” 

“ Will, will, thin there’s a fine chance for 
him , for a huger sinner ye’ll not find in Killy- 
rooke ! ” cried Paddy, who had been sitting 
unnoticed in a dark corner of the kitchen. 

“ Whist, Paddy,” said his master, “ and 
listen to the jintleman while he talks to us.” 

“ What is it, friend, that troubles you ? Is 
it that your respectability and peace are gone, 
or that your soul is in danger ? ” 

“ It is that I have sinned against a holy God, 
whom I once thought I loved and honored, 
and have brought shame on His name among 
Ilis foes ; that I have disgraced the dead, and 
broke the heart o’ the livin’, and ruined my- 
self entirely. This last is sorrow enough ; but 
when I remembers God, all that fades away. 
I can’t pray. Och, it is a fearful thing to be 


206 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


shut out from the presence o’ God and not be 
able even to call upon Him.” 

‘‘ You must pray or you are lost ; no man 
can do that for you.” 

“ Ay, yon is jist what I’m always tillin’ him 
— to say his prayers,” said Paddy. “ O’ 
course he won’t be forgive till he does — 
‘ what’s worth the takin’ is worth the askin’ ! ” 

‘‘ If I could get a ray o’ hope, sir,” said 
John, without paying the least regard to 
Paddy’s speech, “ I’d lave my lovely home and 
go forth among strangers and toil at any work 
for a crust. I’d not ask a shelter by day or 
night, nor a smile from mortal, nor even ase 
from pain o’ body ! ” 

‘‘Ah, you’d buy peace with God by pen- 
ance, like your poor neighbors, would you ? 
But it can not be done. The blood of Jesus 
Christ, and that alone, cleansetli from all sin . 
Do you believe that ? ” 

“ Ay, I have believed it from my cradle up ; 
but my sin, sir ” 

“ Is it greater than all sin, so great that it 


A VISIT OF MERCY. 


207 


outweighs the promise and the power of God ? 
Take care, my friend, how you limit the ability 
of Him who said, ‘ All power is Mine in 
heaven and earth,’ ” said the visitor. 

“It never entered my head that I was a 
sinner, sir, till late years. I thought myself 
an example to all, for vartue and piety.” 

“ Och, that ye did^^ responded Paddy from 
his dark corner, “ and the blissed one in 
hiven war always warnin’ ye agin the ‘ liven 
o’ the Pharisees,’ and tellin’ ye that ye war all 
buried up in yer crops and yer cattle ! Well 
do I remember in those last days how she said, 
‘ Beware, boy, o’ self-righteousness ; let him 
that standeth take hade list he fall.’ Poor 
Paddy remembers her holy tachin’, if her own 
son don’t, and I only a poor workhouse lad 
and a Papisht beside. I’d be under great com- 
pliment to ye, young jintleman if ye’d say yer 
prayers here, seein’ that he’ll not say his. I’ll 
sit still and listen, though I daren’t for the life 
o’ me go onto my knees.” 

“ I hope you will not forget your own soul, 


208 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


my poor man, in your care for your master,” 
said the gentleman. 

“ Och, but I’m safe, sir; I’m a Catholic and 
quite in favor with father Clakey these days, 
’count o’ the fine way I’ve behaved myself in 
the th roubles at Daisy Farm ; though he’s a bit 
angered with all the boys for listening to ye at 
tlie lough, the day. He’s quite sure that ye 
are ather a clergy or the makin’s o’ one, — a 
Methodis like, that’s come out o’ England to 
lade us asthray. He’s cornin’ to the play- 
ground a Tuesday to spy ye.” 

“ I hope he will ; I’d be glad to see him ; but 
at present we have to do with this one ques- 
tion, ‘ What must I do to be saved ? ’ ” said 
the gentleman. 

And far into the night he talked with John, 
and prayed for him, and encouraged him to 
accept the offered pardon, while poor Paddy 
slept in his chair. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


ELDER PETER. 



HEN John Sheehan parted with the 


Y T young man, in the darkness, at the gate 
of his cottage ; he said, “ I’ll take yer advice, 
sir, even though the only way to loose the hop- 
ples from my feet be to go forth into the world 
penniless, to arn my bread as a farm servant. 
Many thanks to ye for yer condescinsion 
and yer marcy to a poor sinful, sorrowful 
man.” 

When he entered the cottage again, he roused 
the sleeping Paddy, who started to his feet as 
if in great alarm. After looking about him 
wildly for some seconds, he remembered the 
circumstances under which he had fallen 
asleep, and exclaimed, “ Have I been that 
oncivil that I let the stranger go without a bow 


209 


14 


210 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


from me or a ‘ God bliss ye/ after all tlie pains 
he’s took about gettin’ our sins forgiven ! ” 

Paddy took the sins as well as the honors of 
the Slieehans all to himself; and he now felt 
as grateful to the gentleman as if he had been 
the especial object of his visit. 

“ Sit down now and rouse yoursilf like a man 
and listen to me/’ said John, in a solemn tone. 
“ Pve promised this night that I’ll lade a new 
life from this hour. I’ve resolved to break tlie 
hateful fetters.” 

“ And ye’ll break yer resolve when yon one 
comes back from the fair and abuses ye, — as 
ye have done a hoondered times afore,” replied 
Paddy, rubbing his sleepy eyes. 

“ No, Paddy ; ye and me is free from this 
hour, even if we have to lave the darlin’ cottage 
and all in it. I care no more for all this land, 
nor the crops, than for the dust in the road, — 
these treasures that has well nigh cost me my 
soul,” said his master. 

‘‘ And where’ll we go ? ” asked Paddy. 

“ We’ll go where’s work to be had, and hire 


ELDER DETER. 


211 


out as farm servants, may be ; but I must 
think first,’’ replied John. 

“ ril not lave this lovely cottage to yon 
one ! ” exclaimed Paddy. “ I’ll set fire to it 
and burn it up, and then I’ll drive off the 
craturs and sell them to some marciful body 
as will love them tinder.” 

“ But the cottage is not ours, it belongs to 
the estate o’ Harpley Hall, and we’d be tran- 
sported for burnin’ it down. We’ll do right 
at any rate, and not get out o’ one sin by lap- 
in’ into another,” replied John. 

“ Let’s ask advice o’ Elder Peter, for though 
he’ll not buy eggs of sinners, — as if the inno- 
cent hins were to blame for the ill doin’ o’ their 
masther, — he’s quite ready to give them 
advice^'^ said Paddy. 

I can go to Mr. Murray, but I’m afeareder 
o’ Elder Peter nor of death itself,” replied 
John. ‘‘ He’s a man o’ very holy life, Paddy ; 
and never havin’ fallen himself, he knows not 
how to pity the sinner. He goes half a mile 
out o’ his way to the Hall, o’ rent day, rather 
than pass Daisy Farm ; and once when I met 


212 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


him in the road, he sprang over a thorn hedge 
rather than go by me.” 

“ Och ! he’d made a poor hand at kapin’ 
xjompany with the Son o’ Mary when He was 
on arth ! Didn’t the ould mistliress read us 
fine lessons about Him ating with publicans 
and sinners and the like villyans ? And ye 
mind yon Mary that He let wash His holy feet, 
and the poor body He spoke tinder to, whin 
the grand folk brought her to Him for punish- 
ment in the timple. If Elder Peter had been 
there, he would ha’ been the dith o’ all thim 
sinners.” 

“ Well, Paddy, when the darkness falls the 
morrow night. I’ll slip up to Mr. Murray’s, and 
humble myself before him as I have before tlie 
Lord ; and I’ll do just what he bids me, if it’s 
to leave all here and flee like a beggar. But 
ye have a work to do for me, Paddy, as well as 
the minister. In the vision o’ Mammy Honey, 
— by which I should ha’ taken warnin’, — ye 
it was that drew the pizen tooth out o’ the 
heart o’ love.” 

“ I’ll soon do that, with yer lave, and like no 


ELDER PETER. 


213 


better business,” replied Paddy, springing to 
his feet and rubbing his hands together im- 
patiently. 

‘‘ Don’t ye move a foot, Paddy, without Mr. 
Murray’s biddin’, for ye’ve not the judgment o’ 
a child,” replied John. 

‘‘ Och, hasn’t I ? And where would Daisy 
Farm be to-day, weren’t it for my judgment in 
buyin’ and sellin’ at the market these last 
years ? ” replied Paddy, with offended dignity. 

The young stranger made his way home in 
the darkness, for the moon had set long before 
he left the cottage. As he passed the few poor 
hovels on his way to Cloynmally, the sleepers 
within were startled by hearing a low, sweet 
voice singing in the road, — 

“ The dying thief rejoiced to see 
That fountain in his day : 

0, may I there, though vile as he. 

Wash all my sins away.” 

While this earnest young disciple had been 
striving to lead the wanderer to God, Elder 
Peter, the village stone-cutter, had been closeted 
with the minister, looking as hard as the ma- 


214 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


terial lie wrought on. “ Well, sir,” he said, as 
lie took the offered seat in Mrs. Murray’s 
modest little parlor, “I’ve been bearin’ strange 
things from my ’printice lads, o’ the doin’s 
of this young lad that’s stoppin’ with ye, 
— such a doin’s for the Lord’s day as I would 
not belave till I’d first ask yersilf. What’s this 
he’s doing ? ” 

“ No evil, I’m sure,” said Mr. Murray, re- 
turning the stony gaze of Elder Peter very 
calmly. 

“ Well I heered that he’d been at the Killy- 
rooke lough consorting with Papist boys, tell- 
ing them about pitchin’ quoits and ball-playin’, 
and that he belaved in the Virgin Mary and 
every thing else they belaved ; and that there 
was just no differ at all betwixt the two reli- 
gions. And he passed silver about, like a fool, 
among the crowd, — it will all go for whisky 
and tobacco, — and worse nor all, who do you 
think he walked off in company with ? Who 
but John Sheehan ! ” 

Elder Peter’s righteous indignation had well 
nigh taken away his breath before he got 


ELDER PETER. 


215 


through this description of the modest youth’s 
effort at the play-ground. Mr. Murray went 
into a labored defense of his friend, pledging 
himself that no evil should be done through 
him to Protestantism in the town. 

But “ though vanquished,” Elder Peter 
“ could argue still.” He expressed great sur- 
prise that his minister should have trusted a 
mere boy on such an errand as that on which 
he was now gone. 

“ He’s jist quite a novice, supposin’ he’s even 
sincere,” he said. “ What is he, a soft-hearted 
lad, to set the terrors of the law before that 
offender? He’s been at my yard tellin’ me 
about the great awakenin’ they’ve had in his 
college ; and I think he’s a visionary. I tried 
to sound him, but there was no depth, either to 
his experience nor yet to his Bible knowledge. 
He was quite thick in his views o’ Daniel’s 
vision. I could not draw him into an argu- 
ment about Melchisedek ; and as to the Apo- 
calypse — why, he knew nothing of the correct 
interpretation of the living craturs full of eyes 
before and behind ! He had no more opinion 


216 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


about the scarlet beast with the seven heads 
and ten horns than a babe unborn ! ” 

‘‘ But he’s a new-born soul, elder ; we must 
not look for wisdom in a child,” replied Mr. 
Murray. 

“ Ay, very good, minister ; and ought we to 
put a strong man’s work into the hands* of a 
babe ? Answer me that, will ye ? ” 

I have done nothing for Sheehan,” replied 
Mr. Murray, “ but I saw no reason why he 
might not point him to Christ when he desired 
to do so.” 

“ Ye’ve done nothing ? Didn’t ye go twice 
or thrice to him, and he turn his back on ye ? ” 

“ But that was all I did, save to pray for 
him.” 

Well, I’ve done all I could as an elder o’ 
the church,” replied Elder Peter. 

“ May I inquire what you have done, bro- 
ther, except to pray for him ? ” asked the 
minister ; “ for of course, you have done that.” 

The elder hesitated a moment, but he was 
never at a loss for a passage of Scripture to 
suit his purpose. “ Well, no, minister I have 


ELDER PETER, 


217 


not prayed for John Sheehan. Do ye not mind 
a passage which reads, ‘ I say not that ye shall 
pray for these.’ I regard him as one of ‘ these.’ 
I met him once in the road, and I scathed him 
with my countenance. Then I refused to take 
my weekly supply o’ eggs when he sent them ; 
and I’ve gone round the back road every time 
I’ve been up to the Hall with my rent, rather 
than countenance him by passing his door. 
My conscience is clear in his case, and I have 
no faith in his repentance,, ’less a mericle be 
performed to prove it. But the night wanes ; 
I must away.” 

Just as Mr. Murray, candle in hand, opened 
the door to let the elder out, his young guest 
mounted the steps. 

“ Oh, here he is, back from an errand which 
might make a very angel timid ! ” exclaimed 
Elder Peter. 

The young man looked at him in surprise. 

“ Listen to me, lad,” he continued. “ Did 
ye ever hear o’ one that ran before he was 
sent ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” was the answer. 


218 


GEMS OF TEE BOG. 


“ Well, and so have I ; and I’ve seen such an 
one, too. Good-night, minister ; good-night, 
lad.” And the elder walked forth in all the 
dignity of conscious orthodoxy. 


CHAPTER XX. 


DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 

ETER Mr. Murray had talked some time 



x\. with John on the following evening, he 
took him to the cottage of Elder Peter, who 
acted in all church matters as if Peter of early 
fame had placed “ the keys ” in his hand when 
he left the church militant behind him. 

Elder Peter first denounced the wanderer 
with the severity of faithfulness, and then, ap- 
plying all the thumb-screws and soul-screws he 
could invent, put him through a course of 
questioning to test his sincerity and his hu- 
mility. 

“ If the church (he meant himself, for all 
the others were meek and tender-hearted) 
should bid ye stand up afore the people for a 
public rebukin’, would ye do it ? ” he asked, 
sharply. 


219 


220 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


“ I would, sir,” replied John, ‘‘ before them 
and the Lord too.” 

If they bid ye go to every Catholic house 
ill Killyrooke, and confess that ye were never a 
Christian, but a hypocrite and a Pharisee, 
would ye do it ? ” 

“ I will do that whether I’m bid or not, sir, 
because I owe it to Him whose name I have 
disgraced,” replied John, humbly. 

If they bid ye to give all yer goods to feed 
the poor, and lave yerself penniless, would ye 
do it?” And Elder Peter looked shrewdly 
from one corner of his eye, as if sure he had 
now struck the sore point. 

“I would, sir, and be thankful that I had 
any thing to give, thus to prove my pini- 
tence,” said John. 

Would ye give yer body to be burned ? ” 

“ If God bid me do that^ Pd ask Him for 
grace and strength to do it,” replied John. 

“ Well, and if the church bid ye, would ye 
promise never to seek yer wife again ? For it 
may be the desire for yer old peace, and not 


DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 


221 


repentance for sin that leads ye here. Would 
ye promise this ? ’’ 

No, sir, not for all the churches in the 
world, I wouldn’t. God is over all. Because 
I’ve broke my vow to Him and her, it is no rea- 
son I should keep on breakin’ it. I shall seek 
her at once, and strive to atone for my past 
evil with tenfold o’ love and tinderness, if she 
comes to me — but she never will. Forgive- 
ness like that would be more nor mortal.” 

Elder Peter frowned. He was there as an 
inquisitor, and was not to be taught by such a 
sinner. “ Then you make some resarve in this 
matter ? ” he asked, harshly. 

“ I resarve the right to cease doin’ evil, and 
to make amends for the past,” said John. 

‘‘ He’s right there. Elder,” whispered the 
minister, who was the only mortal to whose 
opinion the rigid man would yield. “ His 
confession is full and free, we must admit.” 

“ Well, Sheehan, I hope ye’re sincere, and 
we’ll overlook the past and try to respect ye 
again. Ye may take yer seat in the house o’ 
God, next Lord’s day, and I’ll leave the mah 


222 


GEMS OF TEE BOG. 


ter o’ the public rebukin’ to the minister’s de- 
cision.” 

The minister’s decision was a very merciful 
one, — that John should call at the parsonage^ 
and walk through the churcliyard and into the 
church by his side. This would show the con- 
gregation that he had been forgiven and re- 
ceived into favor by the minister and elders , 
and would secure their pardon and pity for 
him. 

Elder Peter’s sense of justice was as strong 
as his hatred of sin ; and he said that, evil as 
was the heart of Nan O’Gorman, she ought not 
to be sent forth from the cottage penniless, — 
thus perchance to be led into new sin. So he 
ordered John, wutli Mr. Murray’s approval, to 
place ten pounds in his hands for her, which 
could only be demanded by her in person. 

Mr. Murray, knowing John’s timidity and 
weakness of purpose, wanted to encourage 
him. He therefore requested him to remain a 
few days in Cloynmally to look after the men 
who were laying out the garden attached to 
the little parsonage. Matters at the cottage. 


DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 


223 


and a message from Elder Peter to Nan, on 
her return, were left with Paddy Mannon, who 
by this trust 'was greatly elevated in his own 
esteem. 

“ God helps those who help themselves.’’ 
Just as soon as John had resolved, in the fear 
of God, to break the chain that bound him, it 
was broken without a blow from his hand. 
The day after he left the cottage, Nan returned 
in high spirits, with two companions, to get her 
clothes, and to say “ good-bye to all Killy- 
rooke, — the dull old place where she’d wore 
out her best days for nothing.” She an- 
nounced to Paddy that a new linen-mill had 
just gone into operation, about twenty-five miles 
away, and that she was going there to work 
with her friends. She was too young and too 
fair to spend her life milking cows and spin- 
ning flax ; and so they must get on as they 
could without her at Daisy Farm. The mes- 
sage from Elder Peter was delivered, with an 
order to appear before him within ten days, or 
the money would be made over to the poor of 
the parish. 


224 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


“ Ten pounds is a power o’ money ! ” ex- 
claimed Nan. But I would niver go to yon 
elder for it, -if it war a thousand ! I’ll take 
Maid o’ Longford instead, and sell her to 
farmer Blaney, whose wife’s long wanted her ; 
and the ten pound will pay for her.” 

‘‘ When ye drive Maid o’ Longford off, ye’ll 
drive the farm with her and Paddy Mannon 
standin’ on it ! My darlin’ misthress’ own 
cow, indade, that Mammy Honey give her ! 
Away with ye, or I’ll have ye ’rested for a high- 
wayman ! ” cried Paddy, in a towering pas- 
sion. 

In an hour, she and her friends were gone, 
and Paddy was on his way to bear the joyful 
news to John, and to implore him to send off 
at once for the darlin’ misthress, by the b’y 
that knew where to find her without huntin’.” 

But both Mr. Murray and Elder Peter ad- 
vised John to put his cottage in its old order 
first ; for his lack of heart and Nan’s lack of in- 
terest had told sadly on all within and around 
it. The poultry houses were almost empty ; 
the flowers were dead, and the vines Mammy 


DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 225 

Honey had loved and trained were tangled and 
broken, and disfigured with the dead leaves 
and stems of four summers. 

When it was known in the village that the 
usurper was gone, and that John and Paddy 
were making preparations for Peggy’s return 
— if return she would, — it gave general satis- 
faction. Some, in their pleasure, forgot that 
he had caused her exile, and took John by the 
hand when they met him, and said, “ I wish ye 
joy, neighbor ! Can I help ye dare the place 
up for her cornin’ ? ” 

The lady of Harpley Hall, herself a sad, 
neglected wife, knew the story of Peggy’s 
wrongs and her quiet departure. When she 
heard that she was expected back, she sent 
a man to the cottage with a gift of two young 
deer for pets, — the only deer ever owned by a 
peasant in that region. She honored the gift 
by sending two blue ribbons to be tied around 
their necks on the day of Peggy’s return, with 
a message that she should call at the cottage 
some day to see the woman who had always 


15 


226 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


set such good examples to the people on the 
estate. 

Soon after tliis, an old woman in the neigh- 
horhood, who had received much kindness 
from both Mammy Honey and Peggy in times 
of sickness, tapped at the door of the cottage. 
John opened it, and looked in amazement at 
the burden of life she carried in lier apron, the 
corners of which she held tightly in her hands. 

“ Neighbor John,” she said, “ Pve heard 
that the black cloud is broke over Daisy Farm 
and that the sun is overhead again. I’ve come 
with a small gift to her as is cornin’ back. 
Here’s my best bin and fourteen fine eggs laid 
by herself. I’d like to set her in the hin- 
house, that Peggy may have, at least, one little 
brood to feed, — she that loves livin’ creator’s 
so dear.” 

Father Clakey, who rejoiced that Nan was 
gone and thus the offence removed from his 
flock, was seen, one morning, coming down 
the road with a huge pot of geranium, all 
aflame with flowers. 


DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 


227 


“ Here, Mannon,” lie called over the hedge, 
‘‘ set this in yer misthress’ little glass window, 
and till her it came with my respects. And 
mind Jbid ye dare up all this place, and trim 
the vines and sort up the flower-beds before 
her coming ; for she’s a worthy, paceable 
body, and an example to these hathen savages 
that are breaking my heart with their con- 
duct.” 

Paddy had scarcely done bowing to and hon- 
oring liis ‘‘ riverence,” when an infirm old 
woman, who had suffered sorely for warm 
stockings since Peggy’s departure, came hob- 
bling into the little garden where Paddy was 
at work. 

“ I heerd, Paddy, that ivery body is sinding 
gifts to the misthress but mysilf. But I’ve not 
a ha’peth to give. Wouldn’t ye suffer me to 
wash the dairy or to sweep the kitchen to show 
my love ? ” she said. 

“ Och, dade I will, granny,” cried the mas- 
ter of ceremonies. ‘‘ I’ve got an ilegant job 
for ye, and one that I offered nather to his 
‘ riverence ’ nor yet to the lady o’ the Hall. 


228 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


Take ye the little flax-wheel that she loved so, 
and a bit o’ soap. Go down to the lough, and 
there dip the wheel tin times in the water. 
Thin scour it with the soap till yer arm is nigh 
broke. Thin dip it tin times more and wipe it 
dry. Burn the flax that’s on it, and throw the 
ashes o’t in the lough, and put on fresh flax 
that I’ll give ye. And whin yer sure there’s 
not a trace o’ the evil hands on it, bring it 
back to its own place again.” 

Old Monica set about her work joyfully, and 
when it was accomplished, she charged Paddy 
to “ tell the misthress, or she would never 
know it was done.” 

Cloynmally caught the spirit, and bulbs and 
shrubs were set out in the little flower-garden, 
and several good books laid on the table beside 
the old Bible. 

But it remained for Paddy to make the most 
marvelous change. One day his master came 
into the kitchen, and found him with a hoe, 
minus the handle, down on his knees, scrap- 
ing the clay floor, beaten hard by the wear of 
a century, and whose hardness and evenness 


DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 


229 


were John’s pride. It was now as if a plough- 
share had been run liglitly over it in all direc- 
tions, a mass of broken clay and dust. 

‘‘ What are ye doing, man ? Look at this 
destruction ! ” cried John, with grief in his 
tone. 

Kape quite asy, masther, and I’ll soon 
make all right agin,” replied Paddy. I’m 
but takin’ off the top o’ the clay, that the 
darlin’ may not have to walk on the same 
floor yon one has trod these years.” 

It was no easy job to smooth the floor again, 
but Paddy accomplished it ; and in about ten 
days, with the approval of Mr. Murray, he set 
off on the errand he had been looking and hop- 
ing for, for four weary years. 

John had urged Paddy to go to the city in . 
his new working-clothes, but he disdained the 
thought of making so poor an appearance 
when he was going on such important busi- 
ness. 

’Dade the ould masther’s Sunday shute 
won’t be new to thim where I’m goin’, for 
they’ve seen thim afore, and were well plazed 


230 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


too, — for they all laughed very pleasant at me, 
— from the grand lady o’ the house to the 
maids that fed me in the kitchen. It’s no 
small farmer’s house, nor other workiii’ man’s 
ather, that I’m goiii’ to now,” he added, toss- 
ing his head proudly, “ but to the raal gen- 
try’s. There’s, a brass sign-board — nigh a 
foot long, on the door, with their name on’t, 
showin’ that it’s the importantest thing in the 
world for people that passes to know who lives 
within. What’s the good o’ a lad havin’ fine 
clothes if he’s not to wear them whin he’s 
among fine people ? ’Dade, I’ll wear no other.” 

John offered Paddy money to go in the post- 
chaise, but he scorned it as an insinuation of 
weakness. 

“ I’ve been nigh forty year boastin’ that I 
could keep pace with post-horses on my own 
two feet, and it would be a beggarly thing to 
give it up now. ’Dade, I’ll be my own post- 
horses,” he said. 

John had given him a thousand messages 
before he set off ; but he accompanied him a 
piece on the road repeating them. 


DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 


231 


“ Mind ye tell her, Paddy, that there’s niver 
been a sunbame in my heart since she left it ; 
that Pve been hourly mournin’ after her, but 
was too wake to break the chain. Tell her 
how I forsook God’s house and shunned his 
people ; and tell her all about the last sorrow 
in my soul for sin ; and tell her about the 
young jintleman from the college that led me 
to see a ray — mind, it’s but a small^ feeble ray, 
— of hope ; and say that if she will come 
back, it’ll be a new John Sheehan she’ll find 
at Daisy Farm, not the proud Pharisee she left 
there, but a man humbled in the dust and 
afeared to live lest he sin more agin a long- 
suffering God. Can ye remember all I’ve said 
to ye, Paddy ? ” 

“ I’d have a bad memory if I couldn’t,” re- 
plied Paddy, for ye’ve tould me ivery thing 
tin times over. I’ll make all the confissions 
and promises, and I’ll tell her the fine daring 
up we’ve had at the farm, and all about the 
young deer, and the priest’s flowers and the 
books, and then she’ll just fly to get back to 
the home she loved so dear.” 


232 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


‘‘Fm not so sure o’ that, Paddy,” replied 
John, with a mournful shake of the liead. 
“ The fine folk will ha’ learned her value by 
this time, and will strive to hinder her lavin’ by 
hapin’ abuses on me. And if this be so, and 
she refuse to come back, tell her that war what 
I feared and what I desarved; and tell her 
though I niver see her more, she may hope 
that her prayers and the dear dead mother’s is 
answered, and that poor John is saved — so as 
hy fire. Can ye remember that ? ” 

The last words were evidently unintelligible 
to Paddy, but he did not admit it. “ Oh, yes, 
I’ll remimber it, and if I shouldn’t. I’ll make 
up something as fine as it. Now, good-day 
to ye, masther. May good luck go with me, 
and ’bide with ye ; and mind ye’re faithful to 
the cows and the rest o’ the work while I’m 
gone, so that I’ll not find all in disorder when 
I returns. See, there’s the sun just peepin’ 
over the bog as he did the mornin’ I conveyed 
her, with her blue box on my shoulder, to the 
wagoner at the turn o’ the road. Fare ye 
well ! ” 


DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL, 233 

And throwing his stick, on the end of which 
was a bundle, over his shoulder, the poor, 
faithful fellow trudged off on his long day’s 
journey, whistling. 


“ Will ye go to Kelvin grove ? 


CHAPTER XXI. 


PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY’S. 

,WO of the sunniest chambers in the house 



X had been assigned by Miss Grey to Peggy 
for the “ orphan asylum.” Under one of the 
'vyindows was a heavy iron balcony, from which 
they could look into the small gardens of two 
old residences, and then off at the distant 
harbor, where white sails were always flapping 
impatiently, or quiet ships lying at anchor, as 
if resting after long and weary voyages. 
Prom this balcony, after the simple lessons of 
the morning were over, the humble teacher 
could always see something which suggested a 
subject of instruction to her little charge. 
One day she would tell them all she knew 
about the waters, and explain the power of 
Him who holds them in the hollow of His 


234 


PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 235 

hand, and who fashions and preserves the 
myriads of fish that fill them. 

So the trees, and flowers, and birds, few 
though they were, seen from a city window, 
were turned into teachers for the unfolding 
minds of the thoughtful little girls. 

Having noticed the delight they took in 
flowers. Miss Grey, who had now fully re- 
gained her health and spirits, resolved to grat- 
ify their delicate taste. So she had deep 
wooden boxes, filled with rich earth, fixed 
around the three sides of the balcony by iron 
rods, and stocked with potted plants in bud or 
bloom. The intervening spots were reserved 
for seeds, that the children might watch their 
growth from the first tender sprout to the gor- 
geous blossom. 

On the balcony were two little chairs, with 
books, toys, and materials for dressing dolls, 
when the lessons and the half-hour’s task at 
needle work were over. It was the summer 
school-room and the playhouse ; a place of 
never failing amusement. 

One morning, as Bessie sat hemming a 


236 


GEMS OF THE BOG, 


coarse towel, her little sister, who was on her 
knees gazing earnestly into the black earth in 
‘‘ the garden,” as the boxes were called, 
sprung up, exclaiming, “ Oh, see ! God has put 
life into one little black seed, and given it a 
tiny green head, and it’s just peeping up. 
And look. He’s turned that red bud into, a 
flower in the night ! ” 

Miss Grey, who was in the room at the time, 
consulting Peggy about some of her charities, 
stooped to look, and then said, “ Yes, that is 
one of the seeds you called ‘ black peas,’ a 
sweet-pea. It will grow into a delicate vine, 
and by-and-by have fragrant flowers.” 

Peggy sighed heavily. 

“ You’re not sorry the poor little pea has 
broken its shell and come to life, I hope, Mis- 
thress Sheehan, that you heave such a sigh as 
that ? ” asked Miss Grey. 

‘‘ No, ma’am, I’m glad for it, and for the 
children,” — Peggy had ceased saying “ chil- 
der,” and many other Irish words, — “ but 
sweet peas and pinks always bring back the 
past to my heart. I had scores o’ twigs stuck 


PADDY MANNON AT MISS GRETAS. 237 

up in my little garden, and round each one I’d 
plant a ring o’ sweet-peas ; and they’d climb 
up and cling to the twig and blossom till 
they’d fall over with their own weight. And 
the pinks, too, how Mammy Honey used to 
love them ! ” 

“ Are the pinks and sweet-peas all there 
now, and nobody to love them, mammy ? ” 
asked little Marion. 

“ I don’t know, darlin’, but I think they’re 
all dead,” replied Peggy. 

‘‘ Is every body dead there ? ” she asked 
again, leaning on Peggy’s shoulder, and strok- 
ing her cheek tenderly, as she always did when 
she saw a shadow pass over her face. 

No, darlin’, I hope not,” answered Peggy, 
lifting the child to her knee and resting her 
cheek on the bright little head. 

“ Then why don’t we go there, and plant the 
peas and pinks again ? Can we go some time, 
mammy ? ” 

Perhaps, darlin’, if God bids us ; but we 
can’t tell. We’ve a far finer home here.” 

“ No, Marion,” said Miss Grey, ‘‘ I can’t 


238 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


spare your mammy. Wliat would blind Patty 
do if she did not visit her and read to her ? 
And how would old Molly keep her knitting 
women quiet for an hour to hear about Christ, 
if mammy was not there to give them yarn 
and tea, and to get their love ? I can’t spare 
mammy when I’m sick, and tired and lonely. 
There’s nobody in the world loves her as much 
as I do ; and nobody shall ever have her who 
doesn’t love her.” 

The children had heard stories of Killy- 
rooke, and of Mammy Honey, and of Paddy 
Mannon, but never of John. Tliey looked on 
the place as a paradise of cows and calves, of 
hens and chickens. 

“ Go now to your bedroom, and sing your 
dolls to sleep, darlin’s, till I call you,” said 
Peggy. 

When they were gone, she said in a low 
tone to Miss Grey, “ For ten days I’ve been 
sore hindered in my prayers by Satan, o’ 
whom I’m greatly afeared. Perhaps I’ve 
sinned, for I’ve long ceased to pray that I 
might go back to die in my own cottage. I’ve 


PADDY MANNON AT MISS GRETAS. 239 

looked on all of artli as lost to me, only for the 
good I’d do, and I’ve prayed only for John’s 
soul, and not that he might be brought back 
repinting and seek me out, and be his old self 
again. 0’ late, when I’d be on my knees, a 
question would rise, ‘ Can ye forgive as ye 
hope to be forgiven ? ’ And I’d say, ‘ Yea, 
Lord.’ Then I’d ask my lieart, ‘ Could I feed 
her that destroyed my peace war she hungry, 
and give her a drink war she thirsty ? ’ And 
again I said, ‘ Yea, Lord.’ Then came the 
question, ‘ Could ye go back to yer home and 
be the same lovin’, true wife, and forget the 
past, if God bid ye ? ’ And the very thought 
put me all a tremble. If I should but see 
John’s face I’d fall dead at his feet. And I 
couldn’t say ‘ yes,’ to that. So I’ve an un- 
broken will yet left in me.” 

“ I would never let you do that after the ill 
usage you have had,” said Miss Grey. 

“ Ah, dear lady, but think what a little I’ve 
been called to bear. Scarce a harsh word 
from one but the poor blind Papists over the 
road, till I got this piercing o’ my heart that 


240 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


drove me here. And mind what Jesus Him^ 
self suffered. He war abused and insulted by 
the great, and deserted even by His followers 
that he had chosen out o’ the world, that He 
loved with an everlasting love. And yet hear 
Him on the cross : ‘ Father, forgive them, for 
they know not what they do.’ ” 

“ Well, I shall not be anxious till I hear 
that you’re sent for — which will never be. 
For if ever that man repents, he will be 
ashamed to ask you back,” said Miss Grey. 

“ I had a bit o’ a drame last night,” said 
Peggy. “ I thought T was standin’ in a gar- 
den, when I heerd a soft voice call my name as 
Mary at the sepulchre ; and like her I turned 
me about and said, ‘ Master.’ There stood the 
Master Himself, and He had my poor wan- 
derer fast by the hand, holding him up. I 
took the other hand in mine, and forgot we’d 
ever been estranged, and as the Blessed One 
left us I saw His footprints like shinin’ silver, 
and in striving to follow in His steps and to 
lead the wanderer on, I woke. For a little 
time I was troubled thinking o’ the past, but 


PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 241 

before the light came in at the window the 
great- peace was back again in my soul, and 
I’ve not thought o’ the drame since till the 
little lambie asked, ‘ Can’t we go there and 
plant the flowers again ? ’ ” 

“ Misthress Sheehan,” said Miss Grey, do 
you not think you are doing far more for the 
suffering here than you could do — even if all 
was well in your own home, — cooped up in 
that little hamlet among those debased Papists 
who will not hear you read or listen to your 
advice ? ” 

‘‘ Well, perhaps, ma’am, but I can’t tell. I 
made a happy home there, and strove to do a 
little outside for friend and foe. Killyrooke is 
a small place, but it’s full o’ souls ; and ye can 
never know how Mammy Honey loved them 
and longed for their salvation.” 

The conversation might have gone on longer, 
but for a bustle and a sound of laughter in the 
hall outside the chamber door. After tapping, 
two maids, redolent with smiles and blushes, 
appeared together. Each was ambitious to 
tell tlie news first. 


16 


242 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


“ Well, what’s this trifling about now ? ” 
asked Miss Grey, without a smile. 

“ Please, ma’am,” they both said in a breath. 

“ Susan,” said the lady, “ be quiet, and let 
Mary tell what’s going on.” 

Please, ma’am, yon queer dressed farm- 
man, — the little man in the big clothes, — is 
come again to see Misthress Sheehan. When 
I opened the door at his ringin’, he was sitting 
on the steps untying his wooden-soled brogues, 
and he took them in his hand and walked into 
the passage in his stockin’s. He told us to 
say to Misthress Sheehan that ‘ one Paddy 
Mannon was wantin’ to spake with her.’ ” 

Miss Grey glanced at Peggy, whose face was 
as white as marble, and asked, “ Shall the 
man come up ? ” 

“ Yes, and plaze, dear lady, tarry ye too, for 
I’m just faintin’ at thought o’ what has 
brought him. May be his masther’s dead.” 

Oh, no fear of that,” said Miss Grey, almost 
sarcastically. “ This ridiculous fellow has 
taken the journey, as he did before, merely to 
see you. Here he is.” 


PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 243 

Paddy, with his shoes in one hand and his 
staff and bundle in the other, came a step or 
two into the room, very shyly ; but catching a 
glimpse of his mistress in her black dress and 
her muslin cap, he was so overawed by her 
grandeur, that he stepped back again into the 
passage. Miss Grey said, “ Come in,” but it 
was not till she rose and opened the door that 
he ventured to do so. Then he exclaimed, in 
wonder, “I’d niver a knowed ye, dear. How 
white yer hair is gettin’ with the throuble, and 
how grand ye look in the fine clothes ! Sure, 
ye’re dressed like Misthress Murray herself.” 

“ Paddy,” asked Peggy, in a tremulous 
tone, “ is all well with ye ? ” 

“ ’Dade it is, misthress, and better too ! ” 
exclaimed Paddy. 

“ Lay down yer stick and give me yer hand, 
my poor friend,” she said. . 

This done, Paddy’s sudden reserve gave 
way, and he said, looking first at one of his 
listeners and then at the other, “ I’ve fine 
news to till ye. The O’ Gormans is all dead 
and in the workhouse, and their cottage 


244 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


burned. We’ve been convarted at Daisy 
Farm, and we’ve confissed our sins, and re- 
piiited o’ the same, and got back into the 
church again, and walked into the pew by the 
side o’ Mr. Murray, after gettiii’ lave of Elder 
Peter, and yon one’s gone off to work in the 
mills, and the clay floor’s all scraped by thim 
two hands ” — which he held up, — “ and the 
flax wheel scoured with soap and sand in the 
lough, and the flax that was on it burnt up, 
and the ashes thrown into the dipths of the 
sea, and the vines all trimmed up, and flowers 
growin’, and a pot o’ scarlets, sint by his river- 
eiice, in the little glass windy, and two young 
deers, a gift from the hall, and a sittin’ hin 
with fourteen fine eggs under her, and himself, 
the masther, all dressed in his bist clothes 
sittin’ waitin’ to see ye back, and I’m sint for 
ye.” 

Paddy scarcely took breath during this 
speech, which he delivered in such an excited 
manner as to lead Miss Grey to think him 
crazy. But by degrees, and after many ques- 
tions, Peggy got the whole stbry out of him. 


PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY’S. 245 

“ And what message did Mr. Murray send 
by ye, Paddy ? ’’ she asked. 

“ He bid ye come back,” replied Paddy ; 
“ but here’s a letter from Mr. Murray himself 
to Miss Grey. But I it was that complated 
tlie work, though I never told it afore. I gave 
Kitty Connors half my last quarter’s wages to 
fill yon one’s head with the fine time they’d 
have at the new mill where herself was goin’ 
to work, and to take her over there to a dance 
they had afore the openin’. They war gone a 
week, and it was one long holiday to them, 
and life at the cottage looked dull beside it. 
So I it was that did, in the latter end, what 
the dead misthress said I’d do — do ye 
mind ? ” 

“ Yes, Paddy, I mind, but I’m bewildered 
entirely now, and can not think. But why, 
when yer masther has caused all this sorrow — 
look at my white hair, and me only at middle 
life — if he has repinted, why didn’t he come 
himself instead of sending ye ? ” 

“ Because for two reasons. The first was, 
he was afeared o’ Miss Grey, the fine lady ; 


246 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


and the sicond was that I wouldn’t suffer him, 
but was detarmined to come mysilf, as I prom- 
ised ye. Didn’t yersilf till me whiniver I see 
my masther broke down and humbled, to come 
after ye mysilf ? ” 

“ Yes, Paddy, but I little dramed it would 
take four long years to bring him back to his 
sinses,” replied Peggy. 

“ She can never go back,” cried Miss Grey. 
“ Your master does not deserve such a wife. 
And how could she ever live in that crazy old 
shieling, after passing four years amid such 
comforts as these ? ” 

“ 0, dear heart, the comforts would niver 
cost me a thought,” replied Peggy. “ I’m 
bound to ye by a thousand cords o’ love ; but 
if I could know the great Masther’s will I’d do 
it.” 

“ But, Misthress Sheehan,” said the lady, 
“ think of tlie children ; but for you I should 
never have taken this responsibility. I can 
leave them nothing, as this property all goes to 
nephews at my death. But if you remain, you 
can fit them to earn their bread in some re- 


PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY* 8, 247 

spoctable way. Otherwise, they will be cast on 
the world when I am gone.’’ 

“ Dear lady,” cried Peggy, ‘‘ when I tuk the 
lambies to my heart it was for my own. I 
will niver cast them off. When I go, they will 
go too.” 

“You may go now, my good man,”, said 
Miss Grey, “ and get your dinner at an inn. 
Then, if you are not too tired, you can walk 
about and look in the shop windows till bed- 
time. Here are two crowns to pay for your 
dinner and your lodging. You can come back 
to see Misthress Sheehan to-morrow.” 

Paddy drew his hand behind him as far as 
possible from the proffered silver. 

“ I’m not a poor man, lady ! ” he cried, rais- 
ing his head till it came almost above the col- 
lar of his coat. “ I’m a man as can command 
my own price, and gets thirty-five shillings a 
quarter! I’m not a child, to accept pence, 
but a man, with all the money I nades, and 
plinty to spare to the poor ones. And more 
nor that, ma’am,” said Paddy, with a low bow, 
“ if it’s iver yer fortun’ to walk from Killy- 


248 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


rooke to this city, ye’ll be glad enough o’ a 
bed, ’stead o’ starin’ in at shop windows ! If I 
once gets into a bed at the inn I’ll bide in it a 
week. I came after my misthress, and not 
seekin’ shows.” 

When Peggy had Paddy alone the next day, 
she said to him, “ I can not go back with ye, 
poor, faithful boy. Ye see how I’m fixed here 
with the little ones ; I could not leave them, 
nor yet could I take them with me without yer 
masther’s lave. Tell him, Paddy, I’ve long 
ago forgiven him, and that I’ve been just sure 
that God would, sooner or later, bring him to 
Himself, and let me take him to Mammy 
Honey at last. But tell him that after all that 
has passed, himself, and not ye, ought to take 
me back to my home, that my neighbors may 
see that he desires me there, and loves me 
still. And tell him, Paddy, that o’ all the fine 
things I’ve seen here there’s nothing so beauti- 
ful to me as my own little cottage, and that I 
can return and be the same faithful wife as I 
iver was. And tell him that the peace o’ God 
still ’bides with my sperit, and that through all 


PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY’S. 249 

my sorrow the lovin’ Master has been iver at 
my side, — that I almost see Him by me now. 
And 0, Paddy, don’t ye be so plased about yer 
poor masther’s bein’ convarted as to forget 
that ye too have a soul, and that it’s as worth 
savin’ as his. Remember all this, Paddy, if I 
shouldn’t see ye agin alone.” 

Notwithstanding Paddy’s noble independ- 
ence, he consented to stay three or four days 
at an inn at Miss Grey’s expense. He also de- 
scended so far from his dignity as to yield the 
controversy he had kept up with the post- 
chaise and horses, and to compromise matters 
by riding home with Barney, the wagoner. 
But he was sorely humbled by the result of his 
mission. He had gone forth proud and boast- 
ful, taking to himself all the honor of the good 
work at the cottage, and saying, “ There’s just 
but only one man on the round arth that can 
bring the jewel back, and that* man’s mysilf — 
Paddy Mannon. And look out for the day ye 
see us retarnin’ together triumphant to Killy- 
rooke ! ” Poor, crestfallen Paddy ! All he 


250 


GEMS OF TEE BOG. 


had gained personally by his long tramp was 
sore disappointment, deep mortification and 
aching limbs. 

When he reached the turn of the road ’’ 
where the wagoner set him down, he seated 
himself on a pile of stones, saying, resolutely, 
“ Now, Paddy Mannon, sit here till ye die, 
afore ye enter Killyrooke alone. My heart’s 
broke in my bussum ; yis, tin times broker nor 
it war the day I laid my jewel Meg in the 
grave, intirely. Here I’ll ’bide and die o’ 
ather hunger or starvation. And then the 
ministher, and Elder Peter, and the miserable 
masther will cry tears above me, and say, 
‘ There war a fine, faithful lad ! ’ Farewell to 
ye, ilegant green artli and blue skies ; fare- 
well, craturs I’ve fed and housed so tinder ; 
farewell, Masther John, that’s been the dith o’ 
poor Paddy. Dig me a grave beside Meg, and 
let me hide mysilf in it afore any body in 
Killyrooke will taunt me with the disgrace o’ 
cornin’ back alone, and nobody with me ! 
These is the last words o’ Paddy Mannon, late 


PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 251 

of Killyrooke, parish o’ Cloynmally, county 
Connaught, Ireland.” 

The first twinge of hunger, — the seat of 
that malady being the most sensitive part of 
Paddy’s system, — drove all sentimentalism 
out of him ; and about an hour after he had 
uttered his last words,” he’ took up his stick 
and bundle and made his way to Cloynmally, 
and delivered Miss Grey’s letter to Mr. Mur- 
ray. That gentleman saw no cause for such 
deep gloom as Paddy’s, and told him that his 
mistress would, doubtless, be at home in a 
fortnight, with the two little girls. 

Paddy shook his head mournfully, and said, 
“ Ye’ve not seen yon Miss Grey, that has the 
kapin’ of her. To hear her talk, ye’d think 
the worst evil that could befall a woman was 
to have a husband at all. She ivident hates 
the whole nation of men, and was but barely 
civil, aven to mysilf. I’ll niver face Masther 
John with the bad news.” 

Mr. Murray offered to go home with him, as 
Miss Grey’s letter was for his master’s benefit, 
and must be read to him. It was like the sur- 


252 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


geon’s lance, severe, but potent ; and both de- 
cided that, painful as it would be, John him- 
self must go for Peggy. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

A HAPPY “HOME-BRINGING.” 

I T was true, as Paddy had stated, that Miss 
Grey was no admirer of “ the nation of 
men.” She had seen poor specimens in her 
own family, two sisters having married men 
who spent their money and then broke their 
hearts. So she had steeled her own heart 
against the sex, even in her charities. 

But the deep humility of poor John, and the 
solemn awe that marked his face and his 
voice, when he came for Peggy, touched her, 
so that the rebuke and the advice she had in 
store for him were all forgotten when they 
met. She soon ceased to think of him as the 
vile wretch she had almost hated, and found 
herself listening with tearful eye- to the simple 
tale of his wanderings and of his conversion 
to God. She now acknowledged him as a 


253 


254 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


brother, and spoke of him as “ poor Sheehan,’’ 
and not as “ that miserable man.” Slie be- 
came so softened towards him that, great as 
was the sacrifice, she consented cheerfully to 
Peggy’s departure. She promised to provide 
for the little girls under her charge until they 
should be able to take care of themselves. 
Not to make the change too great from the 
pleasant chambers where they now lived, she 
insisted on sending to Killyrooke a load of 
furniture, bedding, books and toys by Barney’s 
wagon. 

“ Sheehan,” she said, before parting with 
the family, “ as you are not a poor man, I’m 
going to make a request that may seem 
strange to you. I don’t think that cottage of 
yours is good enough for such a wife as you 
have. You must add a room to it, and lay a 
board floor there, and put a glass window in’ 
every room. I shall send the ‘ asylum ’ carpet 
for the new room, and the table, and the 
chairs ; and do you make Misthress Sheehan 
as comfortable as possible, and see that the 
little girls help her in every way they can.” 


A HAPPY '' HOME-BRimiNGr 255 

John expressed his gratitude, and promised 
to make the improvements she suggested. 
But Peggy’s pale face flushed as slie said, — 

“ But, dear Miss Grey, I’m afeared about 
the carpet. Perhaps the poor things that I’m 
hopin’ to benefit there might think me proud, 
and so grow invious ; and I dar’n’t do any 
thing to drive them from me. I’ve great hope 
I’ll do them good, and so must be just one o’ 
themselves still.” 

“ Don’t tell me that ! ” cried Miss Grey. 
“ I know more of human nature than you do. 
Mistress Sheehan, and I know that the igno- 
rant take instruction more kindly from supe- 
riors than from equals or inferiors. And, al- 
though you were not a whit above themselves, 
they’d listen to you with more respect in your 
black dress and your muslin cap than in the 
old linsey-woolsey and cotton. When the car- 
pet is laid, and the new windows put in, 
there’s no doubt you will have admirers 
enough. And those who come to gaze will 
stay to listen.” 

“ But, ma’am, there’s not a carpet in the 


256 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


town only at the ‘ Hall/ and the priest’s, and 
the minister’s. Mrs. Murray has but one, — 
in her best parlor,” said Peggy. 

“ Well, you deserve as good a carpet as 
Mrs. Murray, and I shall not let you go 
till you promise to put it down,” said Miss 
Grey. 

Peggy consented, but not without some 
fears for her influence in Killyrooke. 

And when ye send me garments to make 
for the little maids,” she said, “ ye’ll remem- 
ber that they’ll be just poor people’s children, 
and not send things too fine, to make them- 
selves vain or others invious.” 

“ Certainly, Mistress Sheehan, it is all im- 
portant that they are taught their position 
now. Keep them always in neat pinafores at 
school, and in plain, comfortable dresses and 
hats at church. Train, and feed, and dress 
them as if they were really your children, and 
I will answer for their being good women,” 
said Miss Grey. 

“ Ay, dear Miss Grey, they are the makin’s 
o’ lovely women by natur’,” said Peggy, “and 


A HAPPY HOME-BRIHGINGP 257 

tlie comfort they have been to me in my sor- 
row is wonderful. I’ve just the love o’ a 
mother to them, and many the time I’ve 
thought that all that’s been allowed to come 
on me might yet work out for double good 
to them and to us.” 

“ I believe,” said Miss Grey, you were 
truly sent here to school — to be fitted for fu- 
ture work. You have been a faithful learner. 
I don’t believe your old neighbors will know 
you as the shy woman they knew four years 
ago. Do you remember how you suffered 
when my poor mother insisted on your read- 
ing the Bible aloud to her ? Now you can 
read to half a dozen without trembling, or 
spelling, either.” 

Peggy smiled, and replied, Yes, and not 
stop at the long words, ather, as I did then. 
I wonder ivery day how iver ye bore with my 
shy, stupid ways in thim days, and shall strive 
to return yer kindness by makin’ good use o’ 
the tachin’ I’ve got in this blissed home. 
And if sickness or sorrow come to ye, remem- 


258 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


ber je’ve always a sarvant to bid to yer side in 
me, — day or night, ma’am.’’ 

When arrangements were being made for 
the journey, Peggy begged to go back in Bar- 
ney’s wagon, as she should feel easier there 
than if crowded' up among strangers. Beside 
that, she wanted to see the kind man again, 
and to tell him that the Providence he had 
called “luck” had made all bright with her, 
as he had prophesied. 

As Miss Grey declined the honor of having 
Barney’s establishment drawn up before her 
door to receive four passengers, he was or- 
dered to take the furniture and luggage ; and 
the family walked on and seated themselves in 
his high wagon, when he arrived at the inn 
where he always put up. 

The greeting between Barney and Peggy 
was like that of old friends, and as soon as 
they had cleared the stones of the city streets, 
Peggy introduced John and the children to 
him, and asked very kindly after his wife, in 
whose sorrows she had felt so much sympathy. 


A HAPPY HOME-BRINGING.” 259 

“ 0, she’s well,” he replied. “ Ye mind ' 
1 was telling ye yon day what a sore heart she 
had about the little fellows we buried, and how 
taken up she war with yon Methodises in our 
town ? ” 

Yes.” 

“ Well, when I returned home after dis- 
charging ye at the lady’s door, I told her all 
about ye and yer throubles — the cause o’ 
which I didn’t know. I told her what ye said 
about ‘ luck ’ bein’ the hand o’ God, and about 
the great peace ye’d got in yer own soul, and 
the good advice ye gave me about my soul. 
And what does my wife do but go tell it all to 
the Methodis’ lader, and the next meetin’ they 
had, they all fell to prayin’ for ye, and to 
givin’ thanks for the marcy o’ God to ye in 
yer sorrow. They called ye right out by 
name, and first one prayed that yer sorrow, 
whatever it was, might work for yer glory, 
and then another that yer last days might be 
yer usefulest and happiest days. If ye’d been 
one o’ thimsilves, dear heart, they couldn’t 
made more noise about it,” said Barney, who 


260 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


had put the reins in John’s hand, that he 
might turn round and converse with Peggy. 

“ I am just one of themselves, dear man,” 
she replied. “All who love the Lord are just 
one body, and Christ is our head. Wlien ye 
go back, tell them dear saints that the Lord 
has taken away my grief, and that I’m now 
blessed with two darlin’ little maids as war 
motherless afore, and that He has given me 
such a power o’ courage that I can speak, and 
read, and sing to as many neighbor-women as 
will listen to me, about Christ. But, greater 
nor all, I’ve got the blessings o’ salvation for 
my husband, the son o’ the holy woman I told 
ye of and we too are now to strive for like 
mercy for our neighbors. And tell me now, 
how is it with yer own soul ? ” 

“ Poor enough,” replied Barney, “ as far as 
being convarted goes. The wife talks much 
like yersilf, and has joined herself to thim 
Methodises, and is sore worried about me. 
She confisses that I’m another man from tlie 
one o’ past days ; for I’ve niver swore an oath 
since the day I promised ye I wouldn’t, and 


A HAPPY HOME-BPINGmor 261 

I’m strivin’ not to bate t]ie Papists ; but 
that’s harder nor giviii’ up the swarin’. I’m 
doin’ all in my power to be a Christian, such 
as will suit my wife ; for beside wantin’ to go 
to heaven at last, I’d be glad to make her 
happy, for she’s had a sore life o’t, poor thing, 
one way and another. But for all my tryin’ 
it’s a small headway I make, this far.” 

“ Then stop tryin’ to quit this and to do 
that, dear man,” said Peggy. What would 
ye say to a wagoner that was trying to make 
his journey by whippin’ dead horses ? ” 

“ I’d say he war a fool, intirely,” replied the 
wagoner. 

“ And yet ye’re doing just that same. 
Ye’re dead in trespasses and sins, and ye’re 
whipping up and cheerin’ on yer dead heart 
and dead will, hopin’ they’ll get ye to heaven 
by-and-by. Now quit this folly, and in yer 
dead and helpless state go to Christ for life. 
It’s by Him, and not by our dead selves, that 
we make this journey, or else we’ll fall by the 
road and perish. Now if one promise made 
to me has helped ye to keep from open sin, 


262 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


may be anotlier will help ye to Christ. Will 
ye cease striving to make yersilf holy, and go 
to Him just as ye are, and beg for a share in 
His holiness ? He has plenty o’ it to divide 
among us all, and then have perfect holiness 
left. Will ye go to him thus, and not insult 
Him by expectin’ to get credit for not profan- 
ing His holy name, and the like wickedness ? ” 
‘‘ I will,” said Barney, in a subdued tone. 

“ And give my love to yer wife, and all the 
Methodises, and tell them the Lord heard 
them for me. Perhaps the times I’ve been 
lifted above all arth, and felt like them that 
was taken on to the mount with himself and 
saw His glory, was just when they was plead- 
in’ for me. It’s a short road that’s between 
them that’s separated, when that road lies past 
the mercy-seat.” 

John, who had many times taken the reins 
in his left hand while he wiped his tears away 
with the right, turned round now and asked 
Peggy, ‘‘ Couldn’t ye sing yon hymn o’ 
Charles Wesley’s to the good man ? ” 

“ Ay, if he’d like,” said Peggy, “ and little 


A HAPPY '‘home-bringing:’ 263 

Bessie may put in with her swate voice, too, 
for she’s lamed it lovely.” 

And they sang, in clear, sweet tones, — 

Depth of mercy ! can there be 
Mercy still reserved for me ? 

Can my God his wrath forbear, 

Me the chief of sinners spare ? ’* 

Before Peggy’s departure from her house. 
Miss Grey had written to Mr. Murray ask- 
ing him to receive her at the “ turn o’ the 
road,” and while they were lumbering on in 
Barney’s wagon, talking and singing, Paddy 
was waiting by the heap of stones where he had 
uttered his “ last words ” several days before, 
with the donkey wagon. When they came in 
sight, he, in true oriental style, lifted up his 
voice and wept. He took Peggy and the little 
girls out of the wagon in his arms, and in his 
foolish joy attempted to do the same for John ; 
but his love couldn’t work miracles. After an 
affectionate farewell to Barney, Peggy was sur- 
prised to see Mr. Murray standing near them. 

With a kind greeting, he said, Mrs. Mur- 
ray sends me to bring you all to her for a cup 


264 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


of tea, and then you can walk to the cottage 
in the evening.” 

This was an act of condescension which 
brought blushes to Peggy’s cheek, but notic- 
ing how Paddy’s countenance fell, she was 
going to decline the invitation, when Mr. 
Murray said, — 

“ And Paddy must come back when he’s 
taken home his load and put up the donkey. 
Kate and Tim will be glad if he’ll join them 
at a cup of tea in the kitchen.” 

Paddy’s face was radiant with smiles, and 
bowing almost to the ground, he exclaimed, 
‘‘ Yer riverence is a jintleman, and I’ll be back 
in less nor an hour — as soon as I’ve milked, 
and dacented myself up fit for the honor, in 
my bist shute.” 

A smile passed over the faces of the little 
group, and thus encouraged, Paddy caught off 
his old hat, and striking a heroic attitude, 
spoke the following ‘‘ varses ” impromptu : 

“ When from her home the misthress wint, 

Poor Paddy howled a loud lamint ; 

And all the time she war away, 

She sarved a lady named Miss Grey. 


A HAPPY '' HOME-BRINGINGr 


265 


“ And in thim four long, cruel years 
Paddy shed buckets full of tears; 

His cheeks grew thin, his hair grew gray, 

His sinses well nigh flew away. 

“ So often Paddy told his beads. 

He wore thim down to mustard seeds; 

He nather laughed, nor ate, nor slipt. 

But howled, and sighed, and groaned, and wipt. 

“ But now the storm is passed away. 

The misthress comes again to-day. 

Long shine the sun on Daisy Farm ! 

And keep the cottage safe from harm. 

“ Here Paddy throws his beads away, 

And from the misthress larns to pray ; 

No more a Papist lad he’ll be. 

But Protestant, as all shall see.” 

And with this pledge he took aim and threw 
his beads as far as he could down the road, 
and then hastened home with his load, that he 
might prepare for his return to the parson- 
age. 

When the moon rose high, shedding a silver 
light over the landscape, and giving a charm 
even to the poor cottages on the road, tlie 
little family, accompanied by their faithful 
minister, walked from Cloynmally to the cot- 


266 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


tage. John carried the eldest child in his 
arms, while Paddy brought up the rear with 
the other on his shoulder, galloping and oc- 
casionally neighing like a horse for her amuse- 
ment. 

When the neighbors saw a light twinkling 
from the cottage window, and heard the voice 
of prayer and praise ascending on the still air, 
they knew that old things had passed away, 
and that all things had become new there. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

t 

THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 

T O the little girls, who had rarely seen a 
green field, Killyrooke, with its acres of 
flax and barley, was like a picture of fairy- 
land. The low, rude cottage was a wonder 
to them, and the flowers and vines about it 
were a source of perfect delight. The greatest 
charm of the place, liowever, was the “ life ” 
it contained. They were allowed to stroke 
the necks of Silverhorn and the Maid of Long- 
ford, to feed the calf and the lambs Avith meal 
from their own hands, and to ride on the 
donkey’s back. 

Before they had been many days at Daisy 
Farm they went to the mill with Paddy, 
seated on the bag of barley in the donkey-cart, 
and during the ride were entertained with mar- 
velous stories and wild Irish songs. Wlien 


267 


268 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


John asked Marion which of all his “ craturs’’ 
she liked best, the deer, or the calf, or the 
lambs, or the cows, or the donkey, she replied, 
innocently, “ Oh, I like the funny, kind man 
the best of them all, — dear Paddy Mannon.’^ 
And from the hour of their arrival at the cot- 
tage, Paddy Mannon became the nurse, the 
patron and the hero of the children. He 
would not go to mill or to market without 
them, and insisted that the cows stood more 
quietly while he was milking “ if the small 
bit girlies were aside thim with their soft 
voices.” 

He soon grew so proud of them that he 
overcame his fear of apostasy and of Father 
Clakey, and went to the Presbyterian church 
with the family, to hear what people said 
about the little new-comers after service. 

When Peggy began life again at the cottage, 
her Bible was kept open on a little table in 
her kitchen. She told her neighbors, who 
dropped in one by one to welcome her back, 
that she should read aloud from it every day 
for an hour before sunset ; and that if any 


THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 269 

among them wished to hear the Word of the 
Lord they might come with their knitting at 
that time. If they had not yarn, she otfered 
to supply them ; and also to set up stockings 
for such as were not knitters, and to teach 
them to shape and to narrow them off. 

As Miss Grey had predicted, the simple 
people looked on Peggy in her new attire and 
with her new confidence, as a lady who had 
seen the world, and all questions were soon 
referred to her for settlement. It was marve- 
lous to see the errands which were made to 
the cottage just before sunset by such as were 
too timid to accept her invitations. One came 
to borrow a measure of meal or a few eggs, 
another to ask what would cure the toothache, 
and a third to inquire for the health of the 
two little girls ; and once there, they remained 
to hear Peggy read. Thus, from beginning 
the readings with John, Paddy and the chil- 
dren, she soon had a dozen listeners. Some- 
times they would ask her questions, which 
gave her opportunity to explain the passages 
she read — which were usually from the life 


270 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


and the teachings of Jesus. Slie had learned 
many sweet hymns, with tunes new to them, 
to which they listened with great pleasure, 
and not a few of them began to long for an 
interest in the love which had upheld their 
neighbor in her sorrows, and which now added 
such charms to her simple life. 

During these readings, John always sat with 
his face buried in his hands, as if in prayer. 
His manner was ever marked with the deepest 
solemnity, like that of one who felt his own 
weakness and God’s power ; who walked under 
His eye, and feared by one trifling word to 
grieve Him who had forgiven so much. He 
said little ; but the crops, and the “ craturs,” 
and all he had, were laid on the altar of the 
Lord, and he was ready, at any hour of the 
day or night, “ to lend a helping hand in work 
or in sickness to any neighbor who would con- 
descend to accept his help.” The proud 
Pharisee was humbled in the dust, and could 
barely hope that he was forgiven ; he could 
not rejoice in hope, and he never stood by 
Peggy on the mount. Like Thomas, he 


THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM, 271 

doubted, but like him, also, lie could cry, 
at times, My Lord and my God.” The 
solemnity of eternity was impressed on his 
countenance, and his old good-natured smile 
had given way to a grave and thoughtful ex- 
pression. His neighbors were amazed, and 
watched in vain for his old boasting. He was 
no longer “John Sheehan, the thriftiest far- 
mer and the moralest Christian in Killyrooke, 
giving all men their dues and feeding the 
nady,” but confessed himself to be “ the chief 
of sinners.” 

When Peggy strove to encourage and 
strengthen his hope, she would sometimes 
ask, — 

“ Why should the children of a King 
Go mourning all their days ? ” 

“ Ah, Peggy, jewel,” he would reply, “ what 
right have I to rejoice like other saved ones ? 
It is joy enough for me that I’m not in 
despair ; that I’ve a hope o’ heaven at last. 
How could I be smilin’ and merry, that has 
crucified the Lord afresh, and put Him to an 
open shame ? The wounds I gave to Him and 


272 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


to ye, darliii’, is iver afore my eyes, as well as 
the marcy that has forgiven me. So I can 
niver turn from this sight to look after what 
others call joy. My joy and my crown is to 
lie in the dust and cry ‘ Unclane, unclane,’ and 
to tarn from my pollution to His holiness. 
With that afore me, I’m afeared to open my 
lips lest I sin against God again. If I kape 
near to Him and to ye I’m safe and paceful, 
and that’s all I’ll ask till I see Him as He 
is.” 

And yet John was just as diligent in busi- 
ness as when his thoughts were all centered 
in the farm. He at once set himself to enlarg- 
ing and repairing the cottage, a work requir- 
ing little skill or little money. He and 
Paddy laid the stone for the new room, and 
filled the crevices with a clay mortar of their 
own mixing. When this was done, the joiner 
from Cloynmally came with boards and tools 
to lay the floor, and to put in three new 
windows, — for even Paddy was to have one 
in his loft, as Miss Grey had ordered ; and 
over this luxury he was so jubilant that he 


THE imw LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 273 

forgave her for being an inimy to the whole 
male sict.” 

When all was done, John and Peggy spent 
days in untangling “ the dear vines about 
Mammy Honey’s window,” and training them 
round the corner so as “ to hide up the new 
part, which had no home look,” as Peggy said. 
Then the carpet was laid, the chairs, and 
tables, and pictures which Miss Grey had sent 
were put into the new room. All Killyrooke 
came to admire, and to wonder “ at the luck 
wliich had come to the mistress out of her 
great sorrow.” 

Into this little parlor the Bible and hymn- 
book were now removed, and here Peggy and 
tlie children sat when the labors of the cottage 
were over, to knit, and sew, and read ; and it 
was into this room that the sunset visitors 
were hereafter to be ushered. 

The lady at the Hall became deeply inter- 
ested ill Peggy’s effort to improve her careless 
neighbors. She came in her carriage to visit 
her, and to hear the story of the little girls 
and of all Miss Grey’s kindness. She ex- 


18 


274 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


pressed great pleasure in the success of the 
sunset reading and the knitting-school, and 
promised to send down yarn for all the little 
girls who would learn to knit their own stock- 
ings. “ His reverence is a little stirred up, 
my good Peggy,” she said, “ about the read- 
ing. Believing, as he does, that the common 
people, — the ignorant, I mean, — are injured 
by hearing what they cannot understand, he 
feels that he ought to forbid the cottagers com- 
ing to you so much , and yet lie knows your 
kindness, and is pained to interfere with you. 
Could you not teach these people to knit, and 
to be virtuous and peaceable, without reading 
the Bible to them, and thus not wrong the 
poor man, whose heart is nearly broken with 
the wild creatures ? If not, I fear the bishop 
will bid him break up the ‘ teachings.’ ” 

Peggy’s first impulse was to tell the Catholic 
lady that she had no master but Christ, and 
that she should pay no heed either to priest or 
bishop. But she knew this would deprive her 
of all opportunity of doing the poor women 
good. So she wisely replied, ‘‘ I could re- 


THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 275 

patG varses, and give advice, and sing hymns 
to tliem, my lady, without opening the lids 
o’ my book, if that’s what troubles Father 
Clakey.” 

“ Do so, then, my good woman, and I will 
promise you shall not be interfered with,” 
said the lady. “ If you need yarn or cloth 
for tlie work, send to me ; and come to the 
Hall now and then with your report. I will 
stand between you and Father Clakey in the 
matter.” 

The honor of this visit, and the memory 
of the fine carriage and bay horses with 
liveried men halting before the cottage, raised 
Peggy not a little in the esteem of her neigh- 
bors. They felt it a great honor to know one 
whom the lady of the Hall had deigned to 
visit. Paddy, although he saw the fine equip- 
age frequently on the road, was so awe-stricken 
by its standing before the cottage door, that 
he ran into the cow-house and hid himself in 
the loft till it was gone. 

Peggy sat down at her little table, and 
taking up her hynm-book, began to select 


276 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


such portions as should comprise the whole 
gospel. 

She strove on that evening to impress the 
minds of her visitors with the sinfulness of 
their own hearts, and drew out their ideas on 
the subject. Then she sang the hymn be- 
ginning, — 

“ How sad our state by nature is, 

Our sin how deep its stain! 

And Satan binds our captive minds 
Fast in his slavish chain.’ ’ 

After explaining to them their own helpless- 
ness, while thus exposed to God’s wrath for 
having broken His laws, she told them how 
vain were all their penances, as well as their 
prayers to the Virgin and saints, which only 
robbed God of His glory. Then in lier simple 
way she held up Jesus as the friend and 
lover of the poor, till tears fell from the 
eyes of her listeners, and some of them 
asked, “ Why doesn’t Father Clakey tell us 
all this ? ” 

When the hour was over, and the knit- 
ting-needles were passed through the ball to 


THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 277 

be put away, the guests rose and stood while 
Peggy and the little girls sang, — 

“ Alas, and did my Saviour bleed. 

And did my Sovereign die ? 

Would He devote that sacred head 
For such a worm as I ? ” 

Although this effort of the loving creature 
was anything but agreeable to the priest, and 
he scolded well out of doors about it, he never 
actually forbade the women to go to the cot- 
tage, but satisfied his conscience by charging 
them not to listen to heresy there. 

And thus, amid home cares, — which with 
her had become religious duties, — and efforts 
, for the salvation of others, the years slipped 
by far more peacefully and happily than before 
“ the great sorrow.” John was the soul of 
love and tenderness, and Paddy outdid him- 
self in loyalty and attention. 

The little maids, now strong, sensible child- 
ren, went to a school in Cloynmally, which 
was kept by a good sister of Elder Peter, who, 
unlike him, was of a most gentle spirit. 
When the weather was fine they walked, 


278 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


carrying their dinner in a small wooden 
bucket. When it stormed, they were driven 
over by Paddy in the donkey-cart, being enter- 
tained on the way with marvelous tales of* 
his travels in the moon, and his sailing and 
fishing in the clouds, and with merry, harm- 
less old Irish ballads. So charming were 
these rides, with such company, that they both 
longed for storms. 


CHAPTER XXIY. 


THE ENEMY AGAIN. 

HEN Bessie and Marion were about 



f T eight and ten years old, there was to be 
a fair and horse-race a few miles from the cot- 
tage. The night before the races, Peggy was 
roused from a quiet sleep by a peal of loud 
laughter, which rang out wildly on the mid- 
night air, causing her to spring from her pil- 
low as if an arrow had pierced her. She laid 
her hand on her heart to still its beating, 
but in vain. A company of merry-makers 
tramped by the cottage, singing snatches of 
wild songs, and chatting and shouting to each 
other. She was wondering why the noise 
should have startled her so painfully, and why 
she felt so wretched, when the same shrill 
laughter broke forth again, almost beneath her 
window. Then, fully awake, she knew the un- 


279 


280 


GEMS OF THE BOO. 


hallowed voice that had so often rung through 
the low rooms of the cottage. It was hers 
who had broken its peace. 

Tlie light from half a dozen lanterns flashed 
for a moment across the wall, and then the 
tramping of feet and the humming of voices 
gradually died away in the distance. Anguish 
unknown since the day she first returned to 
her home to find an intruder there, rushed like 
an overwhelming billow across her heart, and 
seemed to swallow her up. She sank help- 
lessly into a chair, and felt for a moment as if 
all were again lost to her. The tempter ap- 
peared for a season, and whispered that God 
had forgotten to be gracious, and that her 
enemy would yet triumph over her. 

But in a moment she knew whence these 
suggestions came, and she whispered, “ No, 
Satan, ye cannot beguile me ! 

“ ‘ The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose. 

He will not. He will not desert to His foes; 

That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake. 
He’ll never, no, never, no, never forsake.’ ” 

And lifting her hands and her eyes, she 


THE ENEMY AGAIN. 


281 


said, with a smile, “ ‘ Thou wilt keep them in 
perfect peace whose minds are stayed on 
Thee ; ’ and if ever poor woman was helped to 
stay herself on God, Peggy Sheehan has 
been.” 

And again “ the great peace ” came over her 
soul, and she was lifted above all her fears. 
She returned to her pillow, and like a child 
under the mother’s watchful eye, fell asleep, 
and only woke in time to see the sun rise over 
the bog. The sudden terror of the night had 
left no impression on her mind, save that of 
calmness and peace, and she went about her 
lowly duties in the kitchen and dairy, singing 
with a thankful spirit. 

The races brought a great many strangers to 
the neighborhood. Some of these were very 
rough characters, and Peggy resolved to keep 
the little girls at home from school for a few 
days, till the road should be clear of them. 
They employed the first holiday in stringing 
thorn-berries on long threads to decorate the 
horns of the cows, and the necks of the deer 
and lambs. When Bessie wearied of this she 


282 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


went into the cottage to her knitting, leaving 
Marion outside the hedge alone. When 
supper was ready, the little one came in with 
a gilt chain suspended from her neck, attached 
to which was a small locket, containing, under 
a glass, a bunch of miniature flowers, — a 
pretty little trifle, such as was to be bought at 
the booths. for a shilling. 

“ 0, look, mammy ! ’’ she said, “ see my 
present, and I’ve got sugar plums, too.” 

“ Poor Paddy wastes his money to plaze ye, 
little dear,” said Peggy, looking with interest 
at the bauble. 

“ 0, no, it was not Paddy gave it me,” cried 
the child. ‘‘ It was a pretty lady that says 
you’re not my mother. But you’re a dear 
mammy, and I love you more than she, if 
your cheeks arn’t red. I love pale cheeks and 
gray hair best.” And the innocent child 
climbed to Peggy’s knee, and covered her 
with kisses as she sat at the table. 

“ Her mother can never surely have found 
us out, poor thing ! I’d never a thought she 
war living,” exclaimed Peggy. 


THE ENEMY AGAIN. 


283 


“ Never, replied John. “It’s no mother 
of hers, but mayhap some evil-disposed body 
that would be staling her for her beauty or her 
clothes. How looked she, darlin’ ? War she 
a beggar-woman ? ” 

“ Oh, no, she was a bit of a lady, or nigh to a 
lady. She had red cheeks, and roses in her 
hat, and I kissed her because she gave me this 
and tlie sugar plums. She said I must hate 
Paddy Mannon, poor Paddy.” 

“ No, darling,” replied Peggy, “ ye must 
love him. He’^ kind and good ; and if he war 
not, ye must niver hate him. God bids us love 
aven our inimies, ye know. If iver ye see this 
woman more, Marion, do ye run into the cot- 
tage at once, lest she run off with ye, and 
break my heart.” 

That horrid peal of laughter was recalled to 
Peggy’s mind, and she had little doubt but her 
old tormentor was in the neighborhood, and 
had spoken thus to Marion simply to annoy 
her. She was sure Nan did not want the 
child, and if she had believed otherwise her 
faith was too strong that day to be shaken. 


284 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


Had a host encamped against the cottage, she 
would have dwelt in peace. 

After supper the children led Peggy out to 
see how they had dressed the cows, deer and 
lambs with haw-berries. As they came near 
the cow-house they heard sobs, and looking in, 
saw Paddy Mannon standing in a corner, with 
his face pressed close to the wall, weeping bit- 
terly. 

“ What can ail ye, boy ? ” asked Peggy in 
surprise ; for Paddy was one of those fortunate 
mortals who seem exempt from^the sorrows of 
life, — who, having nothing, can lose nothing. 

He turned round and replied, “ Send the 
small things into the cottage, and thin if ye’ll 
promise not to turn white and scare me. I’ll 
tell ye what a evil has come to us.” 

When they were alone he continued, I had 
a visit from Nan, and she -bid me get the tin 
pounds I told ye on, or she’d walk into the 
cottage. I war just quite brave at first, and I 
told her it war mysilf hired her friend to woo 
her off, and I threatened her with the magis- 
trate, and the like. And didn’t she up and 


THE ENEMY AGAIN. 


285 


bato the ears near off my face because I’d not 
git her the tin pounds to spend at the fair ? 
Yerself knows, misthress dear, there’s not a 
live man as has more respect for woman nor 
mysilf ; that is whin she kapes in her own 
sphare ; but when she laves spinnin’ and 
milkin’, and goes aboot chastisin’ noble men 
as was made to be the head and ruler o’ her, 
then I’m more afeared o’ her, than o’ ^the very 
ghosts thimselves ! I’ll not go out o’ doors for 
a year, lest the boys taunts me with this blow I 
got from a woman. ’Dade, my head tings now 
like the church bells with the weight o’ her 
hand ; ” and Paddy wept afresh at the thought 
of his humiliation. 

“ Quit yer cryin’, poor lad, and never tell a 
mortal that ye saw her at all,” said Peggy. 
“ I’m not afeared o’ the poor thing ; I could 
minister to her war she sick, or an hungered, 
or athirst, or aven in prison.” 

“ Ah, so could I,” cried Paddy, smiling 
through his tears, ‘‘ if I could but once see 
her in prison, — that’s the place for her ! ” 

“ God,” said Peggy, “ is stronger nor all the 


286 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


powers o’ evil, and we’re safe under His wing. 
Now mind, poor faithful creliir, ye’re not to 
breathe yon poor thing’s name to any mortal, 
especial not to yer dear masther, to bring 
back the sorrows o’ the past. She’ll be off 
with her friends when the fair and the races 
is over, and we’ll still ’bide here together in 
the pace o’ God.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 


A CONSECRATED LIFE 



[HE young man, whose visits had been so 


greatly blessed to John Sheehan, had been 
abroad about three or four years for study and 
travel. He had now returned, and taken a place 
in the counting-room of his father’s extensive 
‘‘ works,” believing that he was called to honor 
God in the busy mart of trade. This decision 
caused great disappointment to his father, 
who had hoped to see his only and gifted son 
shine in public life, either in a profession or as 
a statesman. He now resolved that he should 
at least become a star in the fashionable 
world, and saw no reason, except the fanaticism 
which had taken possession of him in college, 
why he should not marry a title. He knew 
that his money would be as highly prized 


287 


288 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


among the poor nobility as a name would be 
be by him, a rich commoner. 

With this fine fancy in his brain, the man. 
of gold did not clioose to see his heir seated on 
a high stool, scratching in a ledger. So he 
bought him fine horses, a startling brougham, 
and other vehicles, and gave him means to keep 
up the style requisite to carry out his plan 
for him. 

But his son’s heart was on other things, and 
the young daughters of dukes and earls passed 
by him, as little regarded as the down of the 
thistle. He envied the coronet of an earl no 
more than the cockade of a coachman, and all 
the efforts of his father and sisters to “ rouse 
his ambition” were in vain. 

One morning as he sat in the library alone, 
his father entered, with a cloud on his brow. 

“ Come, my boy,” he said, in a tone which 
betokened pain rather than anger, “ we must 
talk over this matter of your future a little. I 
need not tell you that I am sorely disappointed 
in the son of my pride. I reared you for a 


A CONSECRATED LIFE. 


289 


gentleman, but I’m told you have turned out 
almost a Metliodist, forsaking the society which 
you are fitted to adorn, and choosing your as- 
sociates among the employes of the house, — 
even the draymen, — and making yourself 
‘hale fellow well met’ with old Shannon, and 
Cragin, the cooper. Whence did you inherit 
such tastes, my boy ? ” 

A deep color rose to the cheek of the young 
man, as he replied, “ I hope, my dear father, I 
shall never do any thing to disgrace you, or to 
show myself ungrateful for all your indulgence. 
But there is One who has a still higher claim 
on me than you have ; and to Him I made 
vows, as solemn as eternity, in an hour of deep 
anguish. I was on the brink of ruin, and had 
almost brought disgrace on you, when God laid 
His hand on me, stayed me in my mad career, 
and brought me to my right mind. Those vows 
I must fulfill, both from honesty and from a 
love which draws me in the way of His com- 
mandments. I implore you not to tempt me 
from Christ by suggesting that I am cold and 
ungrateful to you. I enjoy the comforts of 


19 


290 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


wealth as much as any young man can do, but 
were the choice forced upon me, I would rather 
be a beggar following Christ, than a prince 
with my back turned upon Him.” 

“ Your sisters can never induce you to ac- 
company them to rout or play ; but you have 
plenty of time to bestow on people who have 
no claim on you,” said the father, severely. 

“ Every body has a claim on me, father,” 
replied the young man, “ and when those I love 
at liome will not listen to me, I must seek out 
those who will. Our family friends would scorn 
me and perhaps refuse my visits were I to re- 
mind them that they were mortal and needed 
an Immortal Friend. But our draymen and 
coopers listen respectfully when I speak to 
them of their souls, and they read what I give 
them, and go where I request them, to hear the 
Word of God preached.” 

“ You never caugiit this spirit of fanaticism 
from my friend Murray ; for although he was 
a church-menfber when we were young to- 
gether, he always remembered that he was a 
gentleman,” said the old man. 


A CONSECRATED LIFE. 


291 


“ 1 hope I shall remember that too, father,” 
replied the son. 

“ You did not see Murray waylaying work- 
men, and running to night services when you 
were with him, I’m very sure ? ” asked the 
father. 

“ He did what he could in that way, but the 
lower classes about him are all Papists, and 
they shun him as if he were a foe.” 

The father remained silent a moment, and 
then, as if a bright thought had just struck 
him, he said, “ Well, if this course appears in 
the liglit of a duty to you, why not take orders ? 
A clergyman stands in the foremost rank of 
society, even though he be as poor as the mouse 
in his church, and witli your wealth you would 
doubtless get speedy preferment. Your sisters 
accuse you of “ preaching ” now ; why not 
make that your profession and take some prom- 
inent living ? ” 

“ Father, should I do this, it would not be in 
the church of your choice, nor yet among peo- 
ple who have rich livings to bestow. But aside 
from this, I feel that my duty calls me to a 


292 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


business life. I have never had a call to the 
ministry.” 

“ A call to the ministry ! ” re-echoed the old 
man, who had probably never heard the expres- 
sion before, ‘‘ what have you ‘ had a call to,’ 
pray tell me ? ” 

“ To make money, and with it, as well as 
with all my powers, to glorify God while I 
live,” replied the young man, solemnly. ‘^Do 
not tempt me to play traitor to the King I have 
chosen to rule over me.” 

“ I will do nothing to vex you, my son,” re- 
plied the old man, ‘‘ even if my heart and my 
hopes are all crushed. You are a man, and 
must choose your own road in life. God 
bless you, my boy, whatever way you go.” 
And taking out a large gold watch with much 
jingling of chain and seals, he wiped tears 
from his eyes before he could see the hour on 
the fair dial plate. Then he took his hat and 
went out to make his usual morning round 
among the works ; not to see what was doing, 
as there were men paid for that purpose, but to 
inspire the workmen with an awe of his dig- 


A CONSEGRATED LIFE. 


293 


nity ; and also to encourage each of them by 
his bland smile and his cheerful ‘‘ Good-morn- 
ing, my man ! ” 

When the letters by the morning’s mail 
were laid by a clerk on the desk before the 
young man, his eye brightened at sight of one 
in Mr. Murray’s well-known hand. The very 
address gave comfort to his tried spirit by an 
assurance that one still lived who could enter 
into and sympathize in his trials. He tore it 
open as if he knew it held the balm he needed 
at that moment, and read tlierein good news : 

“ My Yery Dear Young Friend, — When I 
saw your name among the passengers in the 
‘ Iris ’ I first thanked God for your safety, 
and then took my pen to welcome you home, 
and to tell you the ^ good news from a far 
country,’ which I fear missed you in your 
wanderings. You remember I told you I 
sliould call Killyrooke your parish, and that 
I would be your assistant there. I blush when 
I remember that I strove to discourage you 
in your efforts for poor, fallen Sheehan. God 
blessed your work. He was saved, and the 


294 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


desolate are brought together into a happy 
and godly family. 

‘‘ Your success in gaining the ears of these 
poor people has convinced me of the utility 
of lay preaching. You, with your blue coat 
and white hat, were welcomed where I would 
have been stoned. You were listened to as 
a young gentleman, while God’s more public 
servant was looked on as a wily heretic seek- 
ing to delude their souls. You did more for 
poor blind Killyrooke the two weeks you were 
witli us than I have been able to do in all the 
years I have labored at Cloynmally. I have 
already reaped the first fruits of your labors 
there. I have received into my church, and 
administered the Sacrament of the Lord’s 
Supper to, old Monica Burke, long a roadside 
beggar of little fame for honesty ; to the former 
bar-maid of the poor little inn; and to the wife 
of Sullivan the poacher, — the woman whose 
heart and arms ached from emptiness after the 
dead baby. There was great joy in the church 
over these poor souls. 

“ When John Sheehan, ‘ your joy and your 


A CONSECRATED LIFE. 


295 


crown,’ brought back bis wife to the cottage, 
it was as if be bad introduced an angel into 
the poor hamlet. She had gained much in- 
formation, and had also overcome, to a sur- 
prising degree, her natural shyness by her 
intercourse with Miss Grey and her poor Chris- 
tian pensioners. She at once set out to read 
the Gospel to her neighbors. But they were 
soon forbidden to hear the Bible read. She 
then, with strange wisdom, selected such 
hymns and psalms as form a body of divinity 
in themselves ; and by coaxing, and sometimes 
hiring, she fills her little room every evening 
with poor lost sinners, and to them she sings 
the Gospel, They learn the tunes and the 
words, and carry them home and sing them at 
their toil ; and thus your work is going on 
here. 

The ungodly see little cause for our rejoic- 
ing over these few poor wanderers gathered 
into the fold, thinking them small gain to any 
church. But you and I, who know the esti- 
mate Jesus puts on one immortal soul, know 
there is joy in heaven over them. The poor 


296 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


heart-broken lady at the Hall is in sore need 
of the sympathy of Jesus, and is, I hear, fully 
convinced of the vanity of her penances and 
of the mass. But alas ! she could never stoop 
so low as to hear the Gospel sung in a 
thatched cottage, and she dare not hear it 
preached in a Protestant church. ‘ Position ’ 
keeps her in darkness, while these poor wo- 
men walk in the light. That little hamlet 
will be depopulated ere long. The gentleman 
at the Hall, sorely embarrassed by high living, 
has let the cottages of the tenantry, as well as 
his own grounds, run to ruin ; so the poor 
people are emigrating to America as fast as 
they can get money for the passage. The seed 
which Peggy is casting forth in love and faith 
will thus be scattered, and bring in a harvest 
in the New World. 

“ I have often been perplexed to know how 
to regulate the matter of amusements for 
young Christians, so that it might not clash 
with the injunction, ‘ Whatsoever ye do, do 
all to the glory of God.’ Your course has 
settled the question. It is ‘ for the glory of 


A CONSECBATED LIFE. 


297 


God ’ that you keep the delicate frame He has 
given you in health and vigor by manly exer- 
cise. As your calling has not led you to find 
this in labor, you have sought it in athletic 
games. Now that all your powers are conse- 
crated to God, your skill at those games is 
turned to account for His glory. Through 
quoits and ball you gained the ears and the 
hearts of those poor fellows at the lough. 
Hereafter, when any one asks me, ‘ How far 
may a Christian enter into worldly pleasures ? ’ 
I will say, ‘ Just as far as he is sure he is thus 
promoting the glory of God. When con- 
science tells him that he can honor Christ by 
going to the play or the dance, let him go 
there. Otherwise he will by going get harm 
to his own soul and stumble the souls of 
others ? ’ Your skill at games gave you an 
influence over those people, and enabled you 
to talk to them of heavenly things. That in- 
fluence has extended to me, so that I can now 
drop a word when I meet them, without fear of 
abuse. I believe those ‘ boys ’ with whom you 
met would read any book you should send 


298 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


them — if fortunate enough to read at all. 
Come back at your first leisure, and visit your 
humble little parish before it melts away, and 
I will show you a wonderful change in the 
home of poor humble Sheehan. That foolish 
fellow, Paddy, says he is a Protestant ' now, 
and he attends service regularly with his 
master. The account he himself gives of the 
change is, that when he was homesick after 
his mistress, he vowed that if ever she came 
back to him he would toss up a penny to 
decide the matter of his religion. He did 
so just before she came. The result turned 
him from the faith of his fathers! Do you 
not think that many wiser men than poor 
Paddy stake their religious principles on 
ground as small as that ? 

If, in your labors in the city, you meet with 
those who dare not read or hear the Bible, 
sing the Ciospel to them. Would it not be 
w'ell for us to avail ourselves of poor Peggy’s 
invention, and through music to draw the poor 
and the needy where they can hear the sweet 
sound of the Gospel ? ” 


A CONSECRATED LIFE. 


299 


Ten days after this letter was received by 
the young man, the family at the cottage were 
surprised by the arrival of a box full of books 
and colored cards from Mr. Murray’s friend. 
These were to be scattered by Peggy among 
— so he wrote — “ my friends in Killyrooke.” 
Many of the young men, proud of the honor, 
wished to know what the books contained, 
but not being able to read, were forced to go 
to Peggy and John, who held themselves 
ready for the work. Both Bessie and Marion 
were brought into the service, and there was 
more reading in Killyrooke in the next ten 
days than there had ever been before since 
the first poor cottage was built there. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 

O NE pleasant afternoon in the early autumn, 
as Peggy sat at her wheel by the open 
door of her cottage, she was surprised by the 
arrival of guests in a smart jaunting-car. 
They were no other tlian Barney and his wife, 
who for the first time in their married life had 
set out on an excursion of pleasure. There 
were no cold rules of etiquette to bind down 
the warm-hearted hostess ; and, forgetting that 
she had never seen the wife of the dear 
wagoner,” she rushed out to the gate to wel- 
come them. 

Ah, good woman,” cried the wagoner, ye 
see it’s true that ‘ birds of a feather flock to- 
gether.’ For the last while I’ve jist been long- 
ing to have a word with ye, and to thank ye 
for the throuble ye took about my soul, and to 


300 


VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. ' 301 

tell ye that I’m jist one o’ yersilves now ! 
And here’s my poor Molly, a thankful cretur 
as lives, and as lovin’ a one too. She’s never 
asked high things o’ the Lord in this world, 
but what she lias asked He’s bestowed on her 
and on me ; and we’re come to bid ye re- 
joice with us that we, poor lost sheep, is 
brought into the dear fold.” 

Peggy folded the wagoner’s wife in her 
arms and imprinted a motherly kiss on her 
pale cheek, but, without speaking to her, con- 
tinued her conversation with Barney as he 
hitched his horse to the donkey-post. ‘‘ And 
how do ye feel towards the Papists now ? ” she 
asked, as if trying the genuineness of his re- 
pentance. 

“ I loves ivory one o’ them, from the Pope 
hisself down to the manest o’ my inimies at 
home ! I’d travel from here to Limerick on 
my knees, if by so doin’ I could open one 
pair o’ blind eyes to see the marcy I’ve seen 
in the sinners’ Friend,” he replied. 

As they entered the cottage, Paddy, who 
had been drawn from the garden by their joy- 


302 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


fill voices, joined them, and taking off his liat 
made a low bow, and said, “ I’m at yer sar- 
vice, and yer harse’s sarvice, too, good wag- 
oner. But afore ye enter, will ye let me have 
a word o’ ye ? ” 

The wagoner stepped back and inclined his 
head towards Paddy in the attitude of a lis- 
tener. But Paddy was a man of deeds as well 
as of words ; and he surprised tlie stranger by 
stooping down and catching up one of his feet 
in his hand. Then falling on his knees, he 
put his head down so low that he could exam- 
ine the sole of his brogue. ‘‘ I only wanted to 
see,” he said, with a confidential wink of his 
little gray eye, “ if ye had hobnails in yer 
shoes ; because if ye had, I’d be to pound them 
down afore I let ye into our cottage. We’ve 
grown very fine since first ye saw us, and we 
has a carpet on our floor, and carpets is not 
for men as wears hobnails in their soles, ye 
know. Ye^re all right; so walk in, and a 
wilcome to ye ! Yis, yis ; it’s fine indeed that 
we are now — atin’ with our tables covered 
with white cloth, ’stead o’ bare. There’s not 



PADDY AND THE WAGONER. 




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VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 


303 


a one like us but only the minister and the 
priest ill all these parts. But for all this, we 
kapes quite humble, and treats daceiit poor 
people with due civility; so don’t be afeared, 
but wipe yer feet well and thin just step on 
the carpet as if it were no better nor a clay 
floor. Isn’t it a fine thing to be kept tliis 
humble when we’re grown such grand folk ? ” 

And for two days these humble souls, with a 
few Christian friends who joined them from 
the little band in Cloynmally, “ did eat their 
meat with gladness and singleness of heart, 
praising God, and having favor with all the 
people.” 

The girls were now so large and so capable, 
that they relieved Peggy of nearly all tlie care 
and work, botli in the cottage and in the poul- 
try-yard. What they could not accomplish 
Paddy did, so he felt great pride in boasting 
that ‘‘ his darlin’ misthress didn’t have to lift 
her finger only to plaze herself.” But with 
all this freedom from toil, Peggy was not the 
woman to sit down in idleness. The love in 
her heart always supplied work for her hands. 


304 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


Late one summer afternoon, Bessie and 
Marion were sent otf to search for the ducks, 
which had, of late, fallen into roving habits, 
often leaving ‘‘ the fine accommodations ” 
Paddy had provided for them, and seeking 
company at a large pond half a mile from 
home. 

As the girls turned into a quiet lane leading 
to this duck-pond, they saw two women sitting 
on the grass enjoying their supper ; and yet 
they were too well dressed for beggars. They 
talked and laughed very loudly, and as the 
girls approached, one called out, “ Arn’t ye 
Sheehan’s girls ? ” 

Bessie modestly replied, and then expressed 
her opinion to Marion of the way in which the 
stranger spoke of their father. “ She might 
at least have called him ‘John Slieehan,’ she 
said.” 

“ Come back here and tell us about yon 
Miss Grey. Do she sind ye money by the 
hape, or do the old fellow fade and clothe ye 
hisself ? ” cried one of the women. 

The children were startled by this rudeness, 


VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 305 

and replied, ‘‘ We’re in haste, as we’re bid to 
be back to our supper.” 

“ Ocb ye are ! Well, thin, pass on, fine 
ladies,” cried the woman. “ I suppose that 
great lady, Peggy Sbeeban, forbid ye to spake 
to poor folk.” 

‘‘ Bessie dear,” said Marion, “ I’ve talked 
twice with yon woman on the road. One day, 
you mind, I told ye she said she knew my own 
mother, and that Miss Grey bid her come to 
see us.” 

‘‘ She was jesting with you, dear,” replied 
Bessie, ‘‘ but may be she’s the body that 
mammy’s so ill pleased to bear mentioned — 
for what reason I don’t know. Perhaps she’s 
the one that gave you the locket long ago, that 
mammy bid ye never speak to, but run from. 
A rough body surely she is, and very unlike 
our mammy.” 

And chatting together, they reached the 
pond, and saw their ducks, with a large party 
of friends, on the other side. It was a long 
way round, but they were forced to go on or 
return without them. The shadows were fal- 


20 


306 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


ling, and they began to feel a little timid, when, 
to their great joy, they saw Timmy, the son of 
Elder Peter, eoming towards them. He had 
been a most tender and affectionate playmate 
of Bessie for years. It seems that Timmy, 
now turned of seventeen, did not partake of 
his father’s stony nature, but gave the elder 
great annoyance by spending his pocket money 
and his time for the girls. The elder had 
long ago declared that he’d have “no stuff” 
about him, and that he would chastise Timmy 
next time he saw him befooling himself. “ How 
can I tell,” he said, “ but if the lad’s left to 
himself, he may turn out a gallant, or a lover, 
or such-like wake cretur’ ? He must sure have 
got this wakeness from some far-back body 
among his ancestors ; for his father never 
looked at a maiden till he had a cottage to be 
kept clane and no one in it to cook him a din- 
ner. And here’s him makin’ a fool o’ himself 
from the cradle up ! Amazin’ wakeness for the 
son o’ an elder ! ” 

After a few rebukes and many threats. Elder 
Peter at length devised a plan to mortify the 


VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 307 

lad ill a manner that should teach him a lesson. 
So he took him out of the classical school 
of Maurice Dolan,” and put him into the girls’ 
school taught by his own sister, with a charge 
to her “ to set him in between two little maids 
•whenever he needed punishment.” 

Strange to say. Elder Peter’s medicine was 
too mild for the disease. Timmy was now in 
his element, wedged in between his admired 
Bessie Sheehan and another pleasant child not 
so old. If his father had found it hard to 
keep his finger on Timmy out of school hours 
before, he found it still harder now. He 
walked from Cloynmally almost to Killy rooke, 
either “ after flowers, or four-leafed shamrocks, 
or something else,” every night, till the elder 
took him out of the girls’ school and sent 
him back to Maurice Dolan, with orders to 
have the rod laid on if necessary. But Maurice 
was young himself, and he saw no great crime 
in plucking flowers and hunting four-leaved 
shamrocks with schoolmates or friends. So 
Timmy escaped punishment altogether. 

Hard as Elder Peter’s nature was, he had a 


308 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


very tender spot in liis heart for Timmy — his 
one, only child. Knowing how hard his own 
trade was, he had resolved that Timmy should 
have an easier one — perhaps be a tailor. 
Against this decision Timmy rebelled most 
vigorously, declaring that he would either be a 
stone-cutter or a farmer in America., and he 
dutifully suggested that if his plans were inter- 
fered with he would run off and go to sea. And 
that boy’s threat from time immemorial, had 
as great an effect in restraining Elder Peter 
from carrying out his plans as if it had never 
been uttered before. 

Marion, who preferred the ducks’ company 
to Timmy’s, walked on ahead scolding them 
soundly for the evil ways into which they had 
fallen. Thus the two lingerers had a rare op- 
portunity to make complaints and to reveal 
plans, without a third person to listen. 

Bessie remembered her sad early life among 
the baby boarders, where she was forbidden to 
laugh or to play, and perhaps it was this which 
had given a tinge of sadness to her disposi- 
tion. It certainly was not that she felt depres- 


VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 


309 


sed by her connection with the Sheehans ; for 
so closely had Peggy guarded the children, that 
they had never heard a breath against John’s 
fair fame. Seeing his pure daily life and shar- 
ing his affectionate care, they looked upon him 
as the model Christian, and the most respect- 
able man in the hamlet. 

“ Well,” sighed Bessie, “ I’m just wild about 
America. Timmy, and I’ll not rest till I see it. 
Bell Shannon and Maggie McRea are going, 
and they’re the last o’ the young folk I’m suf- 
fered to consort with, and I’ll be just miserable 
behind them. Why can’t your father and mine 
go, as well as other fathers ? ” 

‘‘ I suppose,” answered Timmy, that my 
father thinks folk don’t die fast enough for his 
trade in a country where’s no potatoe rot and 
no starvation. But the few that do die tliere 
lave enough behind them to pay for head- 
stones, and that’s what few does here.” 

‘‘ Mammy turns pale now,” said Bessie, at 
the word ‘ America ; ’ but I know they’d all go 
if I set my will on goin,’ for they’ll never sep- 
arate from. me — the lovin’ hearts ? ” 


310 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


“ If ye go, I’ll follow, though I should have 
to run off,” replied Timmy. 

Bessie smiled, That’s an old threat o’ 
yours, Timmy, and will frighten no one but 
your father. But here’s the turn of the road 
for you. Now go your way home, and I’ll go 
mine. I’ll not let you walk to the cottage, as 
mammy is grieved with you, saying it’s you 
put America in my head. Good-night.” , 

Good-night, Bessie. Keep up good heart, 
and who can say but we’ll hear Elder Peter 
and John Sheehan singing the Psalms o’ David 
to ‘ Yankee Doodle’ yet ? They have only the 
one tune in that country. Good-night.” 

When Bessie parted from Timmy, she came 
to the spot where she and her sister had seen 
the women sitting on the grass, and, remem- 
bering that, she hastened on to overtake 
Marion. 

She has gone but a few steps, however, when 
she came upon one of the strangers sitting 
alone on the roadside. 

“ What’s yer haste, maid ? ” she called out. 
‘‘ I’m waitin’ here to tell ye what will plaze 


VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 311 

ye. Yo are too fine a girl to waste yer life 
drudging over cows, and flax and butter, shut 
up in a dull old cottage where’s no dances nor 
songs. There’s great want o’ girls in the 
linen mills, and great wages given. Will ye 
go if yer way be paid ? ” 

“ My mammy would never suffer me,” re- 
plied Bessie, as she passed by her without look- 
ing up. 

“ Well, what is that to ye ? She’s no mother 
to ye, but only a hard mistress that works ye 
sore and gives ye no pay.” 

Bessie was too much afraid to linger and 
reply in defense of Peggy, and so hurried on. 
But the stranger followed her, saying, “ I know 
who yer mother is, and there’s where ye’ll find 
love. Pve read yer fortun’ in the clouds that 
blow over the cottage. There’s hapes o’ gold, 
and fine clothes, and gay friends lying’ just 
afore ye. But there’s a journey betwane them 
an ye — ather by sea or land, as ye plaze, and 
I'll lade ye, it ye like, to the illigant luck that’s 
ahead.” 

I’ll never leave my mammy for gold or 


312 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


fine clothes,” cried Bessie, and then she ran on 
with the speed of an antelope. 

When she reached the cow-yard, Marion was 
there housing her rebellious ducks. She pas- 
sed her, and entered the cottage, resolved not 
to worry her mother just then by speaking 
of either America, or Timmy, or the strange 


woman. 


CHAPTER XXYII. 


GOING TO AMERICA. 

FA ARLIN’,” cried Peggy, as Bessie entered 

i / the door, “ there’s ill tidings come from 
dear Miss Grey in a letter to Mr. Murray. 
She’s very ill, and will have us three come 
to her by the morrow morning’s post-chaise — 
she said partic’lar ‘ not by the wagon, as ye 
war not children, now.’ If she die, yer best 
friend is gone, my jewel.” 

“ No, mammy, you are my best friend, and 
all the world is small loss to me while God 
spares you and Marion,” replied the affection- 
ate girl. 

“ And yet,” said Peggy, reproachfully, ‘‘ ye 
would lave me and go to a strange land with 
the widow McRea.” 

0, mammy, dear, Ireland is such a poor, 
worn-out country for the young,” said Bessie. 


313 


314 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


“ I’m longin’ to do something more than just 
breathe, and what can I do in Killyrooke ? ” 

Peggy made no reply to this just question. 
After seating the family at table, she said, 
“ I can niver ate again till I know how’s dear 
Miss Grey. Oh, the tinder, lovin’ friend she’s 
been to me ! Ate ye, but let me go and pre- 
pare for the setting off.” 

Twice since they left her had Miss Grey 
seen the children,” as she still called them, 
but she could scarcely believe that the tall 
girls whom Peggy brought to her bedside were 
the same. 

She had loving words of advice, and a little 
legacy which she was anxious to settle on 
them while she had strength. 

‘‘ Are they good girls ? ” she asked. “ Peg- 
gy, tell me if they have ever grieved you ? 
Speak the truth to me, — you can speak noth- 
ing but truth.” 

“ They have been iver true, and faithful, 
and lovin’, and willin’, but,” and she turned a 
mournful look on Bessie, “ but, she is we^,ry 
o’ me, and o’ poor, dear Ireland, and is rest- 


GOING TO AMERICA. 


315 


less to follow the crowd to America, and my 
heart would die without her smile.” 

The poor girl hung her head, expecting a 
rebuke, but, to her surprise, Miss Grey said 
faintly, ‘‘ I’m glad she has ambition to better 
her lot. Ireland is ground to the dust by a 
double oppression, and is no longer the place 
for the young. If all go who can pay their 
way, there will still be more left than can 
earn their bread, and many of them must 
starve. If you and John should follow me 
to the grave soon, what would these poor 
children do in that desolate hamlet ? I should 
be well pleased if part of Bessie’s portion, be 
spent in getting her to America. Place her 
with some trusty friend who is going, and 
at the end of a year you can go to her, or she 
can return to you if not happy there. But 
Marion was never so staid as Bessie ; keep 
her close to your own side. Do not let her 
■cross the water unless you do.” 

Peggy turned very, pale at these words, 
but Bessie, overcome with joy, burst into 
tears. 


316 


■ GEMS OF THE BOG. 


Might I make bold to ask,” said Peggy ; 
have ye ivcr got any account of tlieir mother 
or father ? ” 

“ Never, and I feel very sure both parents 
are dead,” replied the lady. “ Why do you 
worry yourself about them ? I told the woman 
you sent to ask, that you must never think of 
them, but enjoy the children that God sent so 
mercifully into your kind hand.” 

“ I sent no woman, dear heart, nor man, 
nather,” replied Peggy, in surprise. 

One came with questions, she said, from 
you. I sent replies by the nurse, but did 
not see her myself,” answered Miss Grey. 

“ Well, it’s quite mysterious entirely!” ex- 
claimed Peggy ; “ but ye are now faint, dear, 
with the talkin’. I’ll send all away and sit 
this night by yer*side, and as many more 
nights as ye’ll suffer me, but niver, niver can 
I repay ye for all the love and marcy ye 
showered on mo thim days.” • 

Miss Grey rallied after this, and there being 
no need of Peggy’s services, she insisted on 
her returning to Killyrooke. 


GOING TO AMERICA. 


317 


Some bird of the air — if not Paddy Man- 
non — soon dropped a hint in the hamlet that 
“ Miss Grey had left a great fortun’ to the 
girls, and Imd ordered that Bessie with the 
gold open out in her hand should set sail as 
soon as she pleased for America.” 

Peggy no longer tried to dissuade Bessie 
from her purpose, but suggested the subject 
of a family emigration. 

“ Ye see, John, darlin’, how the people is 
thinnin’ off, and how few is left here. What 
would ye say to us all goin’ ? ” 

Paddy sprang to his feet, and catching his 
hat off one peg and his staff from another, ex- 
claimed, “ I’d say ‘ yis,’ and be off by the sun 
risiii’.” 

“ Whist, Paddy,” said his master, “ and 
don’t be spakin’ when yer. not spoke to.” 
And turning to Peggy, he exclaimed, “ Where 
would be our gratitude to God as has watched 
over our crops and herds, and given us plenty 
while others is starvin ? ’ Could ye lave the 
dear grave and all the poor souls here without 
a one to care for them ? ” 


318 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


‘‘ Shu ! sliu ! ” cried Paddy, the grave will 
take care o’ itself, and as for tlie few souls 
here, there’s none left that’s worth lookin’ 
afther. See, dears, I heered at the black- 
smith’s that all Ireland’s goin’ soon, and thin 

we’ll be left quite alone entirely, and, ” 

‘‘ Paddy,” cried John, as sharply as he 
could say any thing, “ if ye don’t be quiet 
when yer masther and misthress wish to be 
talkin’. I’ll send ye out to the cow-house with 
yer ‘ stirabout.’ ” 

“ And,” continued Paddy, nothing daunted, 
‘‘ they said that in England the quane was 
payin’ the passage o’ whole ship-loads o’ her 
paupers to get them to that fine country. 
And the ’Miricans is that glad to get them — 
bein’ all rich thimselves, and not a one to give 
their charity to — that they be standin’ on the 
shores, waitin’ the ships to come in, and thin 
they fight to see who’ll git the paupers to fill 
their fine empty workhouses.” 

Peggy and the girls laughed, but John 
cried, sternly, “ Will ye be quiet, Paddj? ? ” 

“ And,” continued Paddy, deaf to aP re- 


GOING TO AMERICA, 


319 


proof, “ I shall soon be ashamed to hold up 
my head in Ireland if the very paupers can go 
and not we — such a fine, respictable family, 
— there’s not the like of us in that country, 
though some of thim’s richer nor we. Whin 
will we start off, dears ? ” he cried, implor- 
ingly, “ I’m afeared folk’ll think we can’t raise 
the passage-money.” 

After a free discussion of the matter, it was 
decided that Bessie should go witli the Widow 
McRea ; who, after residing in America several 
years, and doing well ^n a little store, had re- 
turned to Ireland for her children. Bell, and 
Bose, whom she had left with a sister in 
Cloynmally. If, after a year’s trial, Bessie 
was happy, John promised to sell the lease 
of the farm and join her with the family. 

Few poor girls ever set off from that pov- 
erty-stricken land with such preparations for 
comfort on sea and on land as were made by 
the loving Sheehans for Bessie, who was the 
light of their eyes and the pride of their 
hearts. After all was done which the tender- 
est love could prompt, Mr. Murray, Elder 


320 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


Peter, and others of the little church were 
sent for, the evening before Bessie’s departure, 
to commend her to the care of Heaven, and to 
ask God’s mercy on tlie lonely hearts she was 
to leave beliind. And in that hour this be- 
loved child was committed fully to the care 
of a covenant-keeping God, for life or for death. 

When the tears were all shed, and the 
farewells all spoken, Peggy and Bessie and 
Marion set off to wait the post-chaise at Cloyn- 
mally. The loving Peggy had determined not 
to part with her child till the water should 
separate them. John dared not trust himself 
to go from the cottage with them. Several of 
the little church were waiting them at ‘‘ the 
turn o’ the road,” and there was Paddy, from 
whom they had just parted at the cottage ! He 
had run across the wet bog and got there before 
them. And panting and sobbing, he cried out : 

** 0, Erin ! (that’s the grand name for Ireland) swate Isle o* 
the sea ! 

Hinchfor’ard no flowers shall blosshom on thee ; 

Thy herds shall be dead, and thy birds niver sing. 

Thy fowls shall be hatched without feather or wing. 

0-ho-ne ! 


GOING TO AMERICA. 


321 


“ Thy trees shall grow down’ards, with roots in the air. 

No rain shall fall down, hut be drought ivery where. 

And why this distrissful confusion ? ’Kase why ? 

’Ease swate Bessie Sheehan’s detarmined to fly. 

0-ho-ne I 

“ Mad waves, now I bid ye quite paceful to lie. 

Wild winds, don’t 5 ’e whistle once more in the sky. 

Old ocean, rock gintle, yer roarin’ giv o’er. 

Till the gim o’ our cot reach Amirican shore. 

0 -ho-ne ! , 

‘ ‘ And Bessie, my jewel, whin the Yankees ask ye. 

Why fine Paddy Mannon aru’t crossin’ the sea. 

Just till thim he’s settlin’ the farm, and that soon 
"With masther, and misthress, and Mar’on he’ll come. 

0 -ho-ne ! 

“ Then will we ’bide with thim, and wander no more. 

But call yon Ameriky our native shore ; — ’ ’ 

And while Paddy was. still howling out his 
lament, the post-chaise came up, and Peggy 
and Bessie drove off amid the tears and the 
God-bless-ye’s of the loving little group. 


21 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A PAINFUL PARTING. 

0 Meggy’s amazement, as she and Bessie 



X stepped on the ship’s deck, the first person 
they encountered was Master Timmy in his 
Sunday clothes, looking very sober. He had, 
for the first time, been as good as his word in 
the matter of “ running off.” As he could get 
neither permission nor money to cross the sea, 
he was determined to have at least the last 
look of his old playmate before she left her 
native land for ever. 

Peggy was at first much displeased at sight 
of him, and said, half tenderly, and half re- 
proachfully, “ See, Timmy, what ye’ve done 
by stirrin’ up my darlin’ about a strange land. 
How could ye be so cruel, boy ? ” 

“ We’ll all follow her soon, Misthress Shee- 
han,” he answered, with a frank smile, “ for 


322 


A PAINFUL PARTING. 


323 


ye’ll not ’bide long after her, and my father’ll 
not ’hide long behind me, for goin’ I am, and 
that afore long too ! So cheer up, since ye be- 
lave that all things work for good to thim as 
he good, — and who’s better nor Bessie and 
yersilf, dear ? What’s tears about ? ” 

This was said very bravely, but the color 
deepened on Timmy’s cheek, and his voice 
trembled a little, and Peggy was forced to for- 
get her own sorrows and turn comforter. 
Casting a glance full of pity on the boy, she re- 
plied, “ I forgive ye, dear child, from my 
heart’s core ; now let’s away, for, as poor 
Paddy says, ‘ Our sun is set for ever in the sky 
o’ Ireland ’ — poor, dear Ireland ! ” 

After folding Bessie again and again in her 
arms, and calling down, in fervent tones. 
Heaven’s “ swatest blissings ” on her head, she 
left her sitting in tears by the Widow McRea ; 
and taking Timmy’s hand, as if helpless with- 
out aid, she turned to go. 

Then Bessie’s high heart gave way, and run- 
ning after her, she threw her arms round her 
neck, and cried, “ Mammy, go home and tell 


324 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


father to sell the farm at once and come to me, 
for I can never breathe the breath o’ life away 
from you. And bo sure to bring poor Paddy, 
for he’d die if left behind, and I’m sure we be 
just no family at all without him — the dear, 
foolish man ! Will you come soon ? ” 

Peggy did not look at the child of her love. 
She dared not trust herself, but answered, “ If 
God will, darlin’, ye’ll see us in a twel’month. 
Farewell, farewell, my jewel ! ” 

As she and Timmy stepped off the vessel, 
they met a woman in black leading by the 
hand a young girl who was weeping bitterly, 
and who had only a shawl over her head. 
‘‘ There’s more folks nor us in sorrow, 
Timmy ; yon poor lambie’s to bid farewell to 
one she loves, and may be she has little love to 
go back to, as ye and I have, lad,” said Peggy, 
looking back pitifully at the weeping girl. 

As she uttered these words, the woman in 
black called out in a loud tone to her lingering 
companion, to hasten her steps. Peggy ut- 
tered a cry which startled Timmy. Then she 
strove to compose herself, and said to the won- 


A PAINFUL PARTING. 


325 


dering boy, ‘‘ The voice sounded nat’ral and 
. frightened me for a moment. That’s because 
my heart’s weak now ; let us haste away, 
dear.” And yet she looked back ; but the 
woman was lost in the crowd, and she heard 
only the sailors ordering all on shore who de- 
sired to go. Pressing the boy’s hand, as if 
thus she could still the anguish in her heart, 
she led the way to the inn where they were to 
take the post-chaise. 

While waiting the hour for setting off, 
Timmy strove to divert Peggy’s mind from the 
sea by talking of himself and his plans. 

‘‘ Father will niver bind me to Ireland,” he 
cried. “ A boy has but one life, and should 
pass that where he wills. What can an old 
man with a dried up heart know o’ the ambi- 
tion o’ a boy ? ” 

“ Timmy,” said Peggy, reprovingly, “ ye 
have one great fault, I may say, a sin, and — ” 

“What me, mysilf? ” cried Timmy, in Sur- 
prise ; “ you surely can’t mean that ? ” 

“ Yes, Timmy, I do mean just that,” an- 
swered Peggy. 


S26 


GEMS OF THE DOG. 


“ A great fault ! And p”ay wliat can it 
be ? ” cried the boy, bis fine eyes wide open, 
and his cheeks aglow with wonder. 

“ Why, Timmy, it’s the onrespectful way ye 
spake o’ yer dear fatlier. Ye remember God 
bids ye to honor yer father and yer mother, 
and to obey them in all things.” 

“ It would be sore hard to obey the elder 
Mn all things,’” replied Timmy, quite relieved 
to find he was not to be accused of lying or 
theft. ‘‘ Now, as yer old Paddy says, ‘ he’s a 
stone man, made by himself out o’ his own 
matarial,’ and has no human wakeness about 
him. Ye mind, Misthress Sheehan, when I 
was a small bit o’ a boy, and would gather all 
the girlies in the place about me and sew dolls, 
rags with them, he called me ‘ a sheep,’ 
and bid me be off playing rough with the 
lads. And now that I’m seekin’ to work hard 
like a man, he turns about and bids me go to 
a tailor and learn to sew. I’ll not do it if I 
die. I feels the great strength in my bones, 
and I’ll let it out, ather on the stone or yet on 
the land, — and I’ll do it in America, too ! 


A PAINFUL PARTING, 


327 


That I will. If the elder likes to go with me 
he’s wilcome, for laud’s pliiity there, and if 
not, he’ll just have to ’bide where he is.” 

“Ah, Timmy, my lad, yon’s no way to 
spake o’ thim that’s iione so much for ye, and 
that’s so proud o’ ye,” said Peggy. 

“ Who’s proud o’ me, Misthress Sheehan ? ” 
asked the boy. “ Not my father, sure ; he’s 
sore ashamed o’ me, and always askin’ me 
why I arn’t like Ned McGee and the Carney 
lads ; and they goes about nights howlin’ like 
bears, and stonin’ old women’s cats, and the 
like. And all the triflin’ I does is to whittle 
thread-winders, and gather flowers, and buy 
sugar plums, for the girls ; and for that he 
calls me ‘ a sheep.’ No, none is proud of me, 
but one loves me, — that’s my mother.” 

“ Dear lad. Elder Peter is too proud o’ ye 
for a Christian man. He’s never done tellin’ 
o’ yer fine lessons and yer honest behavior; 
and both himself and Mr. Murray is just quite 
proud o’ yer Latin lamin’, hopin’ yerself will 
be a schoolmasther yet,” said Peggy, trium- 
phantly. 


328 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


Timmy laughed outright. “ Latin is stuff 
for the like o’ me ! I’m not the makin’ o’ a 
scholar, and if I should even drag on at the 
book till I’d get a school, woe to the urchins 
benath me ! This- great power o’ strength 
that’s within my bones must come out and 
strike somewhere ; if not the stone or the land, 
then on the boys’ backs. Spake ye, that has 
such power over the elder, and strive to get 
the harness off my showlders, that I may be a 
man as well as look like one» Here am I, 
more nor seventeen years old, and yet askin’ 
my father may I do this or that to arn my 
bread ; and so doin’ just nothing at all. I’ll 
sure be ‘ a sheep ’ at this rate.” 

Peggy promised him her influence ; and 
while they were talking thus the post-chaise 
drove up. They took their places on the top, 
and were off for the home for which Peggy’s 
heart was yearning. She was hoping the love 
yet left her there might fill the blank just 
made by Bessie’s departure. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

STOLEN BY THE FOE. 

P EGGY had left Marion in care of the cot- 
tage, with many charges to “ be tinder o’ 
her poor, lovin’ father, and civil to Paddy, and 
to have all things shinin’ on her return.” 

Childlike, Marion had dried her tears, and 
begun to picture to herself the beautiful 
things which Bessie would send her from 
America, and to anticipate her own voyage 
thither. She was a great “ tease,” and was 
already laying plans to worry the indulgent, 
easy John into speedy preparations for the 
change. 

By dinner time she was singing about the 
cottage as merrily as if no empty seat were 
there, and as if the pillow beside her own were 
still to be pressed by the bright head which 
had used to lie there. 


329 


330 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


John and Paddy bad at Icngcli dried their 
tears, and gone to work in a field at some 
little distance from tlie house. Towards 
nightfall they heard loud voices in the direc- 
tion of the cottage, and then shouts and 
cries. 

“ Whist, Paddy,” cried John. “What can 
yon noises be ? ” 

“ Och,” replied Paddy, coolly, “ it’s on’y 
some o’ our neighbors bating the life out o’ a 
few o’ their spare childer. When my milkin’ 
time comes. I’ll go up and quiet the distar- 
baiice.” 

John smiled, and as the voices ceased he 
thought no more of the circumstances till he 
returned home and found the stool and pail be- 
side a half-milked cow, but no supper ready, 
and no bright little Marion waiting at the door 
to welcome him. He called her loudly, and 
went from room to room through the cottage, 
but in vain ; all was silent there. His alarm 
was increased by Paddy coming in from the 
yard, whither he had gone to milk, holding up 
the little red shawl Marion always wore at 


STOLEN BY THE FOE. 


331 


milking, and crying out, in a tone of agony, 
‘‘ Where’s our child ? The gypsies or the evil 
sperits has stole her away, and left midnight in 
my soul. Ohone ! who’ll give me my child 
afore 1 dies o’ fear ? ” 

John grasped the little kerchief, and hold- 
ing it up towards the light, gazed at it as if he 
hoped there to read the mystery of her ab- 
sence. Jacob did not look more anxiously at 
the coat of many colors. 

Tlie two ran from house to house in great 
alarm, hoping to learn the child’s fate. The 
neighbors had heard a noise, but “ thought 
Paddy was batin’ tlie boys who had stolen his 
ducks, and that the cries came from them.” 
They almost ridiculed the fears of these two 
strong men, but they joined in their search 
through bog and wood, and finally wandered 
toward the lough. One person had see a strange 
man and a woman in black talking with 
Marion at the cow-yard, and another had seen 
a strange horse and jaunting car standing at 
the end of the lane ; but that was all. 


332 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


There was little sleep that night in Killy- 
rooke. John and Paddy, weeping like children 
and accompanied by a band of pitying neigh- 
bors, went from house to house, blew the horn 
and dragged the lough. 

While the men were abroad, the women, 
each with her rush taper in hand, went to the 
cottage to gossip over the mystery. In their 
womanly tenderness they forgot all differences, 
and all forgave Peggy for her neat dairy, 
her glass windows, her table-cloth and her 
carpet. 

Two boys who had been dispatched for Mr. 
Murray now returned with him and Elder 
Peter ; the latter, though somewhat anxious 
about the fate of his own heir, took good care 
not ta allude to it, lest he might expose the 
weakness of his family government. 

Searching proved all in vain ; so the neigh- 
bors dropped off, one by one, till only Mr. Mur- 
ray and E.lder Peter remained. 

“ Have you no suspicion, John, where she 
can be ? asked the minister. 


STOLEN BY THE FOE. 


333 


“ Niver a one/’ replied John, shaking Ins 
head mournfully. “ And how’ll iver I meet 
Peggy after betrayin’ her trust thus ? ” 

“ You, perhaps, have some thought about it, 
Paddy ? ” asked Mr. Murray again. 

“ ’Dade, thin, I have a fine thought jist 
come to me,” replied Paddy. “ But it might 
be oncivil to spake o’t here, as I’d be to name 
one I’m forbid to spake about.” 

“ Speak out, Paddy,” cried John, ‘‘ and 
let’s have none o’ yer long talks or yer non- 
sense in a time like this.” 

“ Well, Mr. Murray, sir,” exclaimed Paddy, 
“ it is jist this : Three nights agone I war in 
at the horse-shoer’s ; and more men war there ; 
and in comes the inimy o’ this house and this 
name, and she in black wades, to be sure ! 
And the men all asked her where did she live, 
and what did she work. And och, sorra me ! 
didn’t I, as war forbidden o’ my misthress to 
look on her or to breathe her name, like the 
fool I bees, go talkin’ to her ? 

“ She asked me about the fortun’ Miss 
Grey gave the childern, and where was the 


334 


GEMS OF. THE BOG. 


gold kept ; and I told her in a belt about the 
darlin’ cliilders’ waists. And she asked by 
wliat vessel would Bessie go, and who would go 
with her, and all that like. 

“ She said herself was goiii’ to America as 
soon as the passage money was arned ; and 
that now, in the mane time, she was about the 
country sarvin’ a society o’ holy ladies in the 
great city, by layin’ tax on the people and col- 
lictin’ money and orphints for a new ’shylum 
they war buildin’. Och ! och ! if that same 
sarpint with a human face has stole off our 
jewel ! What an illigant orphint she’d be to 
ornamint a ’shylum with ! I belave yon one’s 
got her by my folly. Och, ye miserable man, 
Paddy Mannon, will ye niver larn wisdom by 
the sorrow ye bring on yersilf and others ! ” 

‘‘ Paddy, did you tell any one that the child- 
ren carried Miss Grey’s gold about them ? ” 
asked Mr. Murray. 

“ Dade I did. I heerd my misthress say she 
was sewin’ Bessie’s up in a belt for her to wear 
about her waist. And she always trated the 
twos quite aqual, so I thought Mar’on’s gold 


STOLEN BY THE FOE. 


335 


would be there, too; and that if yon one 
thought to steal it, she’d find it unpossible ! ” 

There was now a loud knock at the door, 
and Paddy leaped half way across the floor to 
open it. There was Father Clakey’s honest 
old face, flushed with excitement and terror. 
At siglit of him, Paddy darted back more 
quickly than lie had gone forward, and hid 
himself behind the rough settle on which 
John was seated, for this was the first time 
since he had left his flock that he had met the 
priest face to face. Whenever he had seen 
him coming down the road, he had always 
found it convenient to run into the cow-house 
and draw the wooden bolt behind him, or to 
hide under the hedge. His allegiance was 
broken, but his fear remained. 

“ Any news yet, friends, o’ the pleasant 
child ? ” asked the old man. “ I’ve a sor^ fear 
on my heart that evil’s come to her through 
the mad boasting o’ this fool, Mannon. Come 
out o’ that, ye miserable cretur,” cried the 
priest, striking a heavy blow on the back o’ the 
settle. Paddy shrieked as if it had fallen on 


336 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


his head, but did not appear. ‘‘ Como out and 
tell wliat ye revaled to yon woman in black, 
after ye left the smith’s shop where ye were 
boasting about the gold. I’m told, sir,” he 
said, addressing Mr. Murray, ‘‘ by the man o’ 
the shop, that this woman followed him out, 
talkin’ with him, till he got afraid o’ her and 
ran home over the fields.” 

They could hear Paddy’s loud breathing and 
almost the beating of his heart ; but they could 
not get him out of his hiding-place till Mr. 
Murray took a seat on the settle and bade him 
come and sit beside him, promising that no man 
should lay a hand on him. Then the poor fel- 
low crept out, pale as one of his own ghosts, 
and whispered, I knows no more ; I’s told ye 
all.” 

“ What did yon woman say to ye, Man- 
non ? ” cried Father Clakey, stamping his foot 
on the floor. 

“ She — she — och ! she said she war akin to 
our chil — childer ! that hersilf was ather their 
mother or their cusin, — she’d forget which 1 
But that bein’ their kin, she’d get enough o’ 


STOLEN BY THE FOE. 


337 


the gold to carry lier across the sea, — what- 
iver ! och ! my heart ! ’’ 

“ And why, then, didn’t ye tell this at once 
to yer misthress, ye miserable loon ? ” cried 
the priest. 

“ Bekase, yer, — yer riverence, she said if 
I’d tell a word she spake, she’d bate me afore 
all the boys ! So, so, out o’ silf-rispect I hild 
my tongue ; and see ye all what’s come o’t. Is 
there no world on this arth that we can ’mi- 
grate to where she’ll not be ? What’s iver the 
use o’ goin’ to America now, and her there ? ” 

“ If this family lave their native land. I’ll 
advise thim to lave ye in it, Mannon.* The 
House o’ Corriction is the place for ye, with 
wit enough to do evil, and not enough to do 
good,” said the priest. 

“ Please, sir,” said John, “ he’s a paceable 
cretur’ and would lay down his life for the 
childer.” 

“ More’s the pity he hadn’t done it then, 
’stead o’ betraying one o’ them into the hand 
o’ an emeny. Yon evil one is no doubt by this 
time off with yer child, unless she larns there’s 


22 


338 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


no money about her ; if she find that out too 
late, she’ll set her adrift in a strange place. 
Though if she had the two in America, she’d 
make capital out o’ them; — Heaven help 
them, the fine rispectful things they war to 
ivery body. I’ve had men out sarching for 
the child till I got this word, and then I 
thought it vain. But I’m at yer service, and 
will turn the whole town out o’ their beds if 
ye need ; good-night, neighbors.” And, to 
Paddy’s relief and joy, he closed the door be- 
hind him. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 

I T was part of Timmy’s plan not to appear 
to have been far away, and, at liis leisure, 
to drop in at his home as if he had only been 
at his cousins’, where he often passed a night. 
So when he and Peggy were set down at the 
turn o’ the road,” he insisted on walking to 
Killy rooke with her, carrying her baskets. 

It was just at nightfall they entered the 
cottage. Mr. Murray, Elder Peter and some 
half dozen other friends were there again, con- 
soling John and Paddy, who had spent the day 
in unavailing tears. 

When Peggy saw these grave men sitting 
in her little parlor in solemn conclave, she was 
surprised. As no smile lighted any face in 
the group, she took alarm, and turning very 


339 


340 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


pale, cried, “ where’s my darliii’ child, that 
she’s not at the gate to greet me ? ” 

Still no one spoke, and she cried out, 
“ John, where’s my child ? ” 

Poor John burst into tears, and could not 
reply. Mr. Murray then said, calmly, Mis- 
tress Sheehan, you are not of those who expect 
to receive good at the hand of the Lord and 
not evil. You have seen too much of His 
mercy to doubt Him now, even though clouds 
and darkness surround Him.” 

“ Is she dead, then ? tell me, dear hearts, 
and not kape me in this great fear. I, that 
ha’ given all to God, did not withhold her. 
And if He has taken her to Himself, He’s took 
no more nor His own.” 

Encouraged by her calmness, John began a 
recital of the painful story. As soon as “ the wo- 
man dressed in black ” was mentioned, Peggy 
cried out, “ I saw her, darlin’, with my own 
two eyes, and I heard her voice. It was my 
lambie she war draggin’ in tears, on shipboard 
— och, it war yon fearful woman; and I 


PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 


341 


might have saved the child — Timmy and I. 
She war at our very hand, wern’t she, dear 
boy ? 

Timmy nodded, and Elder Peter looked 
surprised at his knowing what was seen on 
shipboard ; but he was too shrewd to ask ques- 
tions. 

“ If ye had told me the darlin’ were hid 
safe in the grieve, I’d ha’ done like David when 
his child war dead ; but to be in her hands,” 
exclaimed Peggy. 

‘‘ She’s not in her hands nor yet in her 
power. Mistress Sheehan,” replied Mr. Mur- 
ray. ‘‘ She’s as safe now, surely, as if she 
were in the grave, aird the same love watches 
over her. Bessie is on the ship, and will re- 
port the woman to the captain and ask protec- 
tion. Keep you quiet, and soon you’ll hear 
of the two being safe on the other shore. I 
beg you not to cast away your confidence, 
which hath great recompense of reward. God 
has brought you through great and sore trials 
already, and be assured He will not now give 
your peace over into the hand of your enemy.” 


342 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


‘‘ He will not, dear Mr. Murray,’’ cried 
Peggy, smiling through her tears. “ That’s 
an iniiny that’s vanquished and that has lost 
her power. She may plot evil, but can never 
carry it out agin us, for we’re hid under the 
shadow o’ the Almighty. Once, friends, in 
the midnight, I had a sore struggle about 
yon one ; and I thought she’d yet triumph, 
but the great peace come and* rolled like a 
billow o’ love o’er my soul, and the fear was 
gone, and has never come back since then. 
Her voice makes me start for a moment, but 
then I remembers that she’s under my feet, 
and no weapon formed agin me or mine can 
prosper. Ye may think this bold talk, friends, 
for a poor weak sinner, but I’ve had the word 
o’ the Lord for’t, and His word standeth sure. 
I’ll yet clasp my two children in the land o’ 
the living.” 

“ 0, woman, great is thy faith ! ” cried the 
pastor, “ and according to thy faith be it unto 
thee.” 

When John and Peggy opened the door to 
let their guests out, they saw several of their 


PATIENT IN TRIBULATION 


343 


humble neighbors waiting at the gate for their 
departure, that they might go in and sympa- 
thize with Peggy. Once within the cottage, 
they commenced, in true Irish style, to weep 
and howl ; while some few, having got a hint 
about Nan, began to curse her, hoping thus to 
manifest in the strongest manner their sorrow 
for Peggy. But she, pale and calm to a de- 
gree which astonished them, said, “ Take 
seats, kind neighbors, and cease this noise. 
It breaks my heart, and it will not bring back 
my child. Nather let me hear any that would 
befriend me curse a soul that God has made. 
Hundreds o’ prayers has gone up to Heaven 
from these lips for that evil woman, that she 
might yet be pardoned ; and do ye think that 
after that I could stand by and hear her 
cursed ? Maybe my children will be let to 
bless her soul. There’s many a one, friends, 
as evil as her, that’s been washed and made 
clean, and at last been let in among the holy.” 

‘‘ And thin ain’t ye sorry after the child ? ” 
asked an old woman, who was disappointed 
in not being aillowed to. curse Nan — cursing 


344 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


being being one of her professions, for the 
practice of which she always expected to be 
paid. 

“ Yes, Betty, I’m heart-sick for my child, 
but I’m not goin’ to rave like an onrasoniii’ 
woman. I belave she’s in the Lord’s hand, 
and whoever’s there is safe. Ye all know, 
dear women, how I loves the child ; so look at 
me now and see what strength God can give 
to a poor weak mortal. This is the comfort 
and joy my religion gives in distress. Ye 
mind it helped one long ago to trust Him and 
be quite asy when a flood covered all but him- 
self and his family. It enabled others to walk 
calna in a fiery furnace, and others again in 
a den full up o’ lions ; and couldn’t it bear 
, me through this ? There’s only one ocean be- 
tween me and my children, and Tve not got to 
bridge it afore I can get to them. God pre- 
pared a way over the mighty sea long before I 
was born, and all I have to do now is just to 
go over it. And that I’ll soon do, and gather 
my family all about me.” 

This last sentence set the poor neighbors to 


PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 345 

howling and weeping again, for they realized 
the sad loss this family would be to poor 
Killyrooke, whence the younger people, and 
indeed all who were able to work, were going 
as fast as they could get money to pay their 
passage to America. 

“ Cease yer howlin’ there, ould bodies,” 
cried Paddy, who had slipped off his chair at 
the departure of ‘‘ the fine company ” and seat- 
ed himself on the clay floor in a dark corner, 
where he now sat hugging his knees. “ Cease 
yer noise, will ye, and not put my misthress 
off the idee o’ the voyage ? Tliink what a fine 
thing this is to be for us as a family, and my- 
silf in pertic’lar ! Why, whin I raches yon 
illigant country. I’ll be no more ‘ Paddy Man- 
non,’ but ‘ Mr. Man non.’ Old Tim Marphy got 
word in a letter from Judy and Dave that the 
schoblmaster here must direct all their letters 
to ‘ Mish Judy Marphy,’ and ^ Misther David 
Marphy ; ’ for they was all ‘ Misther ’ and 
‘ Mish ’ in that counthry. There we’ll have 
‘ Mish Bessie Sheehan,’ and ‘ Mish Mar’on 
Sheehan,’ and ‘ Misther Mannon,’ as well as 


346 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


the grand lady and gintleman — John and 
Peggy — above us all ! ” 

“ Paddy, cease yer nonsinse now, like a 
good man, wliile I have a few words with the 
pityiii’ neighbors,” cried Peggy imploringly. 
“ Here’s poor Molly waitin’ to get in a word 
to me.” 

“Well thin,” cried the poor woman, wiping 
away her tears, “ will ye suffer us to take the 
work o’ the cottage off ye till ye gits a bit over 
the freshness o’ the throuble ? Norra Burke 
will do the milkin’ with her strong young 
hands, and Sullivan’s wife will make the 
butter as nate as an angel could do it ; and 
mysilf, — well, Pll just do the manest thing ye 
bid me, in mimory o’ what ye did for my 
Mickey when he was laid up o’ the shivers.” 

“ Ten thousand thanks to ye all, good neigh- 
bors,” said Peggy, “ but at a time like this I 
could niver spare my work out o’ my own 
hands. When the hands is busy, the heart’s 
far easier nor other times. Half the sin and 
sorrow in the world comes o’ idleness. I’ll 
put through all the work that the three of u s 


PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 


347 


used to do ; and beside that, if any o’ ye are 
o’erburdened, I’ll lend a hand with the needle. 
I’d wish, dear neighbors, to be that lovin’ and 
helpful to ye while I ’bide here, that ye’ll miss 
me sore when I’ve gone. I’d desire ye to re- 
member myself, and also the words o’ my Mas- 
ter that I’ve so often read to ye. Ye mind that 
he said, ‘ I will send ye another Comforter,’ 
and ye see he has fulfilled his word to me. 
I’d be wild now only for that. He’s as ready 
to comfort ye, as me, if ye’ll but go to Him.” 


CHAPTER XXXL 


NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 

AN O’Gorman had been for some time 



Jl 1 plotting against the gold which she fan- 
cied Miss Grey was to leave in vast sums to the 
Sheehan girls. Having heard that a mystery 
hung about the fate of their mother, she had 
walked all that distance to learn what she could 
from Miss Grey, saying that Peggy had sent her. 
Although she got little information for the 
trouble, she saw enough to satisfy her that 
there was wealth in the house ; and concluded 
that, as there were no children, there would be 
no legal heirs to it. When, therefore, she 
heard, first by rumor and then from Paddy Man- 
non, that the girls were now rich, and carried 
their gold about their waists, she thought her 
hour had come to reach America — that land of 
golden dreams. She had therefore laid her plans 


348 


NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 349 

for sailing in the same ship with Bessie, re- 
garding the meek widow McRea as no obstacle 
whatever in the way slie had marked out. It 
then occurred to her that she “ miglit as well 
have both fortunes as one ; ” so, after Peggy 
had gone in the day's post-chaise with Bessie, 
slie, with an accomplice, had watched about the 
cottage till she was sure Marion was alone, and 
then leaving their horse and jaunting-car in a 
by-lane, aCcosted the child as she came out to 
milk. 

Marion, of course, was fearless of danger, 
and cliatted freely of the family plans. Nan 
induced her to leave the yard, and go to the 
lane to see the jaunting-car in which she was 
to be driven to the sea-port that night. Once 
there) she was pressed in, and, seated on a 
trunk, was driven off in a state of dreadful 
terror, having by this time recognized in the 
woman in black the one who had shouted so 
roughly to herself and her sister on the road- 
side, some little time before. 

Nan was very tender in her manner towards 
her, and told lier that she was her mother. Sho 


350 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


said tliat long ago, being in great trouble, she 
had taken lave of her sinses and wandered 
off,” and that when afterwards she “ came 
back to her wits,” Miss Grey and Peggy had 
her children, and refused to give them up ; but 
that now, finding Bessie was going across the 
sea, slie had resolved to follow her, and to have 
both her children to herself. 

Why, then, couldn’t you tell this to our 
dear mammy,” asked the child, and not 
break her heart by stealing me ? ” 

“ A body can niver stale what’s already her 
own, darlin’,” replied the woman. “ Kape ye 
quite asy, and ye’ll see ye niver had sicli a 
friend as mysilf afore.” 

The man, too, who drove, was kind and 
jovial, and described America, where he had 
been, as a glorious country, in which it was 
holiday all the week, and gold was to be had 
for taking. 

Nan wrapped a large, warm shawl about the 
child, who soon sobbed herself to sleep, from 
which she did not wake for hours ; and then to 
weep anew at her strange situation. 


NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 351 

As, the sun rose high, the party neared tlio 
wharf, and the man, setting down Nan’s small 
trunk, drove oif to witness the sailing of the 
vessel from a hight beyond. Leading Marion 
by one hand, and dragging her trunk with the 
other. Nan pushed and elbowed her way 
through the crowd, with an independence that 
would have satisfied the most ardent advocate 
of woman’s right to any work and any post. 

Bessie was astounded by the sight of her 
sister and the tale of the coarse w^oman, but 
with her natural delicacy she strove to hide 
her anguish from the rude company on the 
deck. The Widow McRea, holding fast to her 
own children, lest Nan might claim them too, 
.accused her of kidnapping Marion, but her 
voice was soon drowned in a torrent of words ; 
and then the deck was cleared of all but pas- 
sengers, and the ship got under way. 


As soon as they were fairly off. Nan walked 
about on a tour of discovery, to see if there 


352 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


might not be some of her acquaintances on 
board. Bessie calmed Marion’s fears by saying 
that they would find some Christian hearts in 
America to pity them. 

“ Do you think she’s our mother, Bessie ? ” 
asked Marion. 

No,” replied Bessie. ‘‘ I think she’s the 
body our dear mammy dreaded so greatly. 
But, dear child, God will ’bide with us on sea 
as well as on land if we but trust Him ; and 
we will trust Him, come life or death.” 

It took but a few hours to consign the 
Widow McRea and the four girls to their 
berths, where they spent most of their time. 
But when the Atlantic Ocean assailed the 
equanimity of Nan O’ Gorman, he found more 
than his match, and came off beaten. It 
would have taken two oceans tossed by the 
wildest storms to lay her low, or to “ unman ” 
her to such a degree that she could not walk 
and talk. 

At length the voyage was over, and the ship 
beat up the Narrows towards the harbor of 
New York. The girls clung frantically to the 


NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 353 

poor widow, lest tliey might be separated from 
licr ; but on the vessel’s touching at Castle 
Garden, Nan seized a hand of each, and dragged 
them to the nearest hack. She ordered the 
driver to secure her box, and then drive them 
to some house kept by one of her own country 
people. Bessie told the man she would not go 
with this woman, and Marion reached out her 
arms from the carriage window, calling piti- 
fully after the Widow McBea. But before the 
bewildered creature could reply, the hackman 
mounted his box, touched his horses with the 
whip, and drove off through the densely 
crowded streets. 

Nan was very angry when she found that 
Marion was penniless, and vowed revenge on 
Paddy Mannon for deceiving her, and thus 
burdening her with this child. But she made 
free use of the money she had taken from Bes- 
sie, both to rest after her voyage, and to buy 
fresh widow’s weeds. 


Bessie and Marion made quite a little stir 


23 


354 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


in the Intelligence-office, whither Nan escorted 
them on the third day after their arrival, in 
search of nurse places. Such neat, pretty and 
modest little maidens were not met with every 
day in that place. 

Here they attracted at once the attention of a 
fine-looking lady who was looking for two girls 
to act as child’s maids for herself and sister, 
living door by door. 

“ What church do you attend ? ” was one of 
the questions she put to them. 

“ We’re Protestants, ma’am,” replied Bessie. 
“ It was to the Presbyterian church we went at 
home.” 

‘‘ But it’s Catholics they’ll be in this coun- 
try, ma’am,” exclaimed Nan, looking resolute- 
ly, almost defiantly, at the lady. 

Bessie turned pale, but collecting herself in 
a moment, she looked imploringly into the kind 
face before her, and said, in tremulous tones, 
‘‘ I fear God, dear lady, and I’d never deny my 
faith. We are Protestants, like the dear ones 
who tauglit us to love and trust Him only. If 
you’ll look no farther, but take us two with 


NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 355 

you, you’ll never repent it, for we’ll be faith- 
ful, and the Lord will bless j’oii for having pity 
on us.” 

This was strange talk in a place where ser- 
vants were questioning ladies, and making 
terms for them to accept. The lady was 
charmed with their pleasant manners, and with 
their artless expressions of trust in God, and 
she announced to the person who kept the 
office that her choice was made. 

“ But, ma’am,” cried Nan, following her to 
the desk, “ ye can’t have ather of them unliss 
their wages be paid to mysilf. I’ll suffer them 
to have half o’t then, and the other half will 
go to support their poor widdy mother.” 

But, my good woman,” said the lady, 
you look stronger than either of them. Why 
not take a place and support yourself? ” 

“ Och, dear lady, I’m a lone widdy, don’t ye 
see ? The Widdy Sheehan.” 

“ I know no reason why widows should not 
labor as well as other women, if they have 
strength to do it,” said the lady, who was as 
resolute as herself. 


356 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


“ Will, will, I must git a bit over the sea- 
feelin’, and hunt two or three cousins first,’’ 
replied Nan ; and now if ye’ll only take them 
off my hands at once. I’ll sind their box after 
them, and visit them once a week — small 
consolation — ” and shaking all three cordially 
by the hand, she saw them walk off together, 
and then seated herself to make new acquain- 
tances. 

Mrs. Maxwell and her sister were charmed 
with their neat little nurses who were capable 
and patient at their work, and who never lost 
an opportunity to teach or sing some, useful 
lesson to their little charges, of whom they 
soon became very fond. 

On her second motherly visit, Bessie being in 
the park with the children. Nan was admitted 
into Mrs. Maxwell’s sitting-room, where she at 
once began relating her life’s trials to the lady. 

“ Och, lady dear, it’s a fearful thing for a 
woman to come down from great prosperity, as 
mysilf have done. If ye could know my fate, 
ye’d cry the full o’ yer two hands o’ tears. I 
had a lovely cottage with a farm to’t, and 


NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 357 

COWS, and pigs, and a donkey, and ducks, and 
geese, and bins, and a sliilf full o’ red and 
green delf ware, and feather bids, and a row 
o’ milkpans as would reach from here to where 
our ship landed,” — a distance of about four 
miles. “ And och, my heart ! the husband I 
had ! He was the ilegintest man in all thim 
parts. He was high and stout, and had the 
finest leg for a long stocking in all the 
country. Och, but he was the man for a 
beauty ! ” 

“ And how long has he been dead ? ” asked 
Mrs. Maxwell. 

“ Dead ? Indade, ma’am, it’s not dead at all 
that he is,” cried Nan, intent only on making 
out a good story. 

‘‘ But you told me you were a widow,” said 
the lady. 

Nan’s memory had failed her for a moment, 
but she was not one to give up her point. 

So he is dead to dear,” she sobbed out, 
‘ - but he’s live enough to tlie rest o’ the world. 
And if a woman wears wades for a man that’s 
gone peaceable into his grave, much more me 


358 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


that’s lost mine a worse way.” And moving 
her chair close to Mrs. Maxwell, she whis- 
pered, confidentially, ‘‘ He turned me out o’ 
doors, dear, and my lovely childer, and there’s 
an evil woman now enjoyin’ all my good 
things, — my farm, and my iligant cups and 
saucers, and nine skeins o’ grey yarn I spun, 
and — and — and my husband.” 

“ But your daughters speak very tenderly 
of their father, and tell me how he used to 
pray for them,” said the lady. 

“ Och, dear heart,” cried Nan, “ they like 
lim because there’s miich of his evil natur in 
thimselves. Didn’t ye see how mane they 
^rere, not wantin’ me to have all their 
wages ? ” 

“ They ought not to give you even half,” 
said the lady. “ I shall insist on their keeping 
most of their wages, and you must go to work 
yourself.” 

“ Och,” cried Nan, “ and what do you think 
I came here for ? I could live by work at 
home. I had a father’s house full of pliiity, 
and would niver ha’ left it only that these two 


NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 359 

evil-minded girls ran off and hid in the ship, 
and I- had to follow to save thim from destruc- 
tion intirely ; ” and the virtuous creature drew 
a heavy sigh. 

Well, I advise you to go to work, and 
come once in a month or so to visit them,’’ said 
Mrs. Maxwell. 

“ Once a month, is it ? ” cried Nan, ris- 
ing ; “ indade they’ll not ’bide where I can’t 
come in and out when I plazes, and call for 
money, too ! ” And dashing out of the room, 
she slammed the door behind her in a way 
that told poorly for her gentle blood. 

That evening, after the little ones were 
asleep, Mrs. Maxwell, as was her custom, went 
into the nursery to see that all was right, and 
there she found her little nurse in tears. 

“ Why, Bessie, what’s the matter, child ? ” 
slie asked. 

“ 0, ma’am,” cried the girl, “ there’s a 
heavy trouble lying on my heart, and I’m 
afraid I’ll die in this strange land, and leave 
my darlin’ sister alone.” 


360 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


“ Bessie, I’m sure there’s something wrong 
between you and your mother, and I insist on 
knowing what it is ; I will protect you, if you 
are doing right,” said the lady, kindly. 

‘‘ 0, ma’am, when we were in the park, she 
followed us and bid us both leave our places, 
and when I refused, she struck me before all 
the nurses and the children. Oh please give 
her all the wages if she but let us ’bide with 
you till our father find us, — the darlin’ man ! 
This is just the hour he’ll be prayin’ for us. 
And our mammy too will be singin’ — oh no, 
she’ll never sing more till she finds us — I’m 
sure o’ that.” 

“ Bessie, is this woman your mother ? 
asked Mrs. Maxwell. “ She neither speaks 
nor acts as if she had brought you up.” 

“ Oh, ma’am, she said if I’d tell one word 
about it, she’d put us both in a nunnery where 
our father would never find us ! She never 
brought us up — you see, ma’am, we do not 
speak Irish, like that.” 

“ You are in safe hands, my child,” said 


NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 361 

Mrs. Maxwell, with tears in her eyes. “ Tell 
me the whole story, and Mr. Maxwell will pro- 
tect you as if you were liis own.” 

Thus encouraged, Bessie told all she knew 
of herself and the Sheehans, and the little she 
knew of the woman who professed to be their 
mother. 

Mr. Maxwell at once wrote to Mr. Murray, 
assuring him that God had sent these good 
children to friends who would guard them well 
till their father came or sent for them. 

When Nan called again, Mrs. Maxwell re- 
fused to see her, telling her that her husband 
was now the protector of the girls, and would 
take care of them till their father’s arrival. 

While waiting for a reply to the letter, Mrs. 
Maxwell and her sister did all they could to 
encourage and comfort the little exiles, who 
found it possible to be happy even under such 
painful circumstances. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 
paddy’s wisdom. 

P EGGY’S love for the children whom God 
had placed in her care, was truly a mo- 
ther's love ; and none but a mother can im- 
agine the anguish which at times filled her 
soul while John was busy settling his af- 
fairs to follow them. But scarcely did that 
anguish come, before the “ great peace ” 
would roll over her spirit, and she would see 
her darlings, not with her enemy, but in the 
hand and under the wing of the orphan’s God. 
She applied herself to her work and to her 
religious duties with a calm and cheerful spir- 
it, which those only know whose hearts are 
fixed on God, and who have entered into an 
everlasting covenant with Him. 

The knitting and the singing went on as 
usual at the sunset hour ; but her guests were 


362 


PADDY WISDOM. 


3G3 


leaving one by one, as their families deserted 
their miserable homes for better ones over the 
sea. Her work was going before her, and 
therefore she felt less reluctance at leaving 
Ireland than if her field were growing about 
her. 

As the preparations were going on, John 
said, And now, my jewel, I must spake to 
ye o’ the Maid o’ Longford. I suppose ye 
couldn’t sell her ? ” 

“ No more than I could sell one ’o my 
children,” cried Peggy. “ She’s more than 
just a good cow to me ; she was the kind 
gift o’ the darlin’ mother, and has always 
seemed one o’ ourselves. When I was in sor- 
row, her eyes always looked sad as if she had 
the power o’ pityin’ me ; and she loved me, 
too. She’s not young, the poor dear, more 
than ourselves, but she’ll be useful several 
years yet. So I’ve resolved to give her to Mr. 
Murray ; and should his family die, or follow 
us over the sea, to have her left for the next 
minister that takes his place, and always to 
’bide on that land.” 


3G4 


GEMS OF TTIE BOG. 


“ That’s wise indade ! ” cried John. “ Elder 
Peter will buy Silverhorii, and will be as tinder 
o’ her as I have been.” 

I hope thin he’ll not fade her on granite 
or marble ! ” exclaimed Paddy, who had just 
entered the cottage. ‘‘ I believe that’s what 
he ates himsilf and that gives him yon stony 
look.” 

“ And now that we’re on the priparations, 
Paddy,” said his mistress, “ I beg ye not to 
take thim clothes o’ the old masther’s to 
America. The people that know ye laugh 
at ye and no more; but in America, where 
none wears short clothes, they’ll think ye’re an 
idiot. Go to the workhouse and give thim 
to old Dinnis. They’ll fit him, and kape him 
warm many a winter if he nades them.” 

“ Och ! but what fine thoughts are always 
cornin’ into yer head and out o’ yer mouth, 
darlin’ ! ” exclaimed Paddy. “ And won’t the 
old man dance, spite o’ his rheumatics, whin 
he sees himsilf in thim fine clothes ! ” and 
springing up the ladder that led to his loft, 
Paddy tied the clothes up in a bundle and de- 


PADDY^S WISDOM. 


365 


parted, much to the relief of Peggy, who had 
feared strong resistance on his part. We are 
sorry to say, however, that he went no farther 
than the cow-house, where he stowed the bun- 
dle away among his treasures in a “ deal 
chest ; ’’ and then sat down long enough to go 
to the workhouse and back again, that his mis- 
tress might think he had been off on the benevo- 
lent errand. Then he went into the cottage 
for a good supper. 

On the evening before their departure, the cot- 
tage was filled with weeping neighbors, nearly 
all of whom were either too poor or too old to 
emigrate. While Peggy, in gentle tones, was 
giving them her parting advice and blessing. 
Master Timmy walked in, radiant with excite- 
ment. 

“ The battle’s won without blood, Misther 
Sheehan ! ” he cried. I’ got twenty pounds o’ 
money, and the free consint o’ the Elder to ac- 
company ye. When he saw I would go, he 
gave consint to save me from the sin o’ disobe- 
dience, the dear man ; aud he’ll soon follow ; 
for nather he nor the lovin’ mother will brathe 


366 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


long out o’ sight o’ me. I’ll show them what 
a strong arm can do when it has a chance to 
work. I’ll just put myself to the granite, — 
that’s the fine material to lay out a lad’s mus- 
cle on. It would ha’ been fine, indeed, if I, 
after I’d stirred up half the lads between here 
and Limerick to go to America, had been forced 
to ’bide in the chimney-corner myself.” 

Paddy was leaning on his elbow, looking out 
of the casement, in rather a pensive mood for 
him. He thought these remarks of Timmy’s 
rather personal ; so, turning round abruptly he 
said, “ Pho, yer nonsinse, lad ! Ye talk like 
the small child ye are ! The arth, and the arth 
alone, are the fine material for a man to spind 
his stringth on.” 

“ I disagree with you, old fellow,” said Tim- 
my. ‘‘ Granite is harder, and so is a nobler 
work than the arth. Sure ony maid can hoe 
potatoes, if she but have good health and com- 
mon sinse ; but put the best o’ thim on a huge 
block o’ granite, and bid her hew out a monu- 
ment or an ornamental gate-post, and see what 
work she’ll make on’t! Setting the maids 


PADDY^S WISDOM. 


367 


aside, ye can put an idiot on his knees, and 
he can pull weeds as well as a giant or a col- 
lege-larned man ; but set him to hewing the 
crowned falcon — the coat-o’-arms on the new 
door for the Harpley tomb, — and see what a 
fine work he’ll make on’t ! ” 

“ And so would Elder Peter made as fine work 
on’t as the poor fool, afore he’d lamed,” replied 
Paddy. “ Ah Timmy, lad, the arth is the ma- 
terial for an honest man to delve in ! ” 

“ The arth’s filthy,” said Timmy, to draw 
Paddy out ; “ a man can never work in it 
without defiling himself ; but the stone is as 
pure as the sky above us, Paddy.” 

“ List to me, lad. The good God knows 
■which is the finest thing for man, surely ; 
and the dear, dead Misthress used to read to us 
that when He made his first man, and had 
ivery thing afore him to selict from, didn’t he 
pass by the stones, the jewels, and the gold 
and the silver and the tin, and make him a fine 
garden, and put him into it to till it and to 
dress it ? That same showed, as Mammy Hon- 
ey said, what Him as made the world thought 


368 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


— that farmin’s the noblest work at all ; and 
while I’m doin’ what the grand jintleman 
Adam did with his own hands — him that 
owned the whole world for his farm — I’ll feel 
quite honored. And yer Protestant Bible tells 
too, aboot a man that wint out to sow, and 
about a husbandman that had a vineyard ; but 
will ye show me the place where’s mintioned 
a man that stood hackin’ away at a gravestone 
or a gate-post ? Ye’ll not find it at all.” 

Timmy was a little crest-fallen by Paddy’s 
reasoning, but laughed it off by saying, “ Paddy, 
the church was chated when ye were put on a 
farm to work. Ye should be aither a priest or 
a parson, with all the fine thoughts ye have. 
What war ye thinkin’ so grave about when I 
came in, with yer head out o’ the casement, 
and yer eyes lookin’ up at the clouds ? ” 

‘‘ Well, Timmy, lad, it war fine thoughts I 
had entirely yon time ! I war lookin’ at the 
moon, and thinkin’ how neglected-like she 
war, and how light sot by o’ most people. 
Hapes thinks a dale o’ the sun, bekase he 
stares so fierce down on us, and makes such a 


PADDY'S WISDOM. 


369 


show o’ liimsilf. And bekase the moon only 
throws a kind smile on us, they think little o’ 
her. But I’ll till ye what I think, — it’s a com- 
parison like ; the sun is like frinds that’s 
very lovin’ and helpful whin we don’t nade 
them. He shines in the daylight whin we 
could jest get along quite fine without him. 
But the dear little moon, she’s like a friend % 
in nade ; she shines when all’s dark, whin but 
for her we’d wander astray, or fall down into a 
ditch and break our head. So away with yer 
snn, that only gives light whin we’ve enough 
without him ; and up with the moon that’s 
saved many a fine life ! ” 

“ But Paddy, man,” cried Timmy, there’d 
be no light at all in the moon, but only for the 
sun. The astronomers say the moon gits her 
light from the sun.” 

“ Then they lies,” cried Paddy. ‘‘ Don’t ye 
think I’ve as many eyes as these ’stronomies 
has ? And can’t I see that the sun’s no where 
about to be givin’ her light? He’s gone en- 
tirely out o’ the way afore the moon rises at 
all ! It’s a great trick wise men has got 


24 


370 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


o’ these days, telliii’ such stuff and thiiikin’ 
they’ll make oiilarned folks belave ’em agin 
their wits ; but Fm not one o’ the fools that’ll 
do it. ril belave me own eyes and me own 
sinses afore ril belave Mr. Murray himself, — 
’dade T will. One o’ his boys was foolin’ me 
as we walked home together from the post- 
office, one night, by tellin’ me that some o’ the 
stars he pointed out was made o’ dippers ; — 
as if he thought I was fool enough to belave 
him ! Dippers, indade ! ” 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A JOYFUL MEETING. 

I T was a bright day in the early autumn, and 
the trees, in hues of gorgeous beauty, made 
the park a scene of gladness to the eye weary 
of the tame sights of every-day life. Nature 
and the little children were out on a holiday 
together. 

As the young Sheehan girls drew their baby 
charges slowly along under a row of bright 
elms, they noticed, in a corner, a group of 
poor-looking people, who seemed to be trying 
to hide, one behind the other, from the obser- 
vation they were attracting. 

‘‘ Look at yon poor things, Marion,” said 
Bessie. I’m sure they’re new off the ship, 
and are suffering from the sport the lads are 
making of their old-fashioned Irish clothes. 
Let’s cross this path, and give them a hand and 


371 


372 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


a kind word. Maybe some o’ them are home- 
less and friendless. And it may be a long day 
before they find such friends as God raised up 
for ^s at the very first. Perhaps there’s no 
pure hearts at home prayin’ for them, either.” 

And the little nurses drew their baby-car- 
riages towards the forlorn-looking group. 

You’ve just come over, poor thing,” said 
Bessie, kindly, to the one woman of the party. 
“ What part o’ poor Ireland are you from ? ” 

“ Coonty Kirry, me and ihese^^^ she replied, 
pointing to three rough-looking fellows on the 
bench beside her. Thim two is from Clare, 
and yon man with his back to us, — him in 
the breeches and the huge coat, tyin’ up his 
brogues, he’s from Limerick or some other 
place.” 

The girls naturally looked at ‘‘ yon man,” 
who was “ tyin’ his brogues,” when in an 
instant Marion dropped the tongue of her wag- 
on, and rushing towards him, screamed out, 
“ 0, Paddy Mannon, this can never be you, 
you darlin’ old man ! ” And forgetting that 
. there was any one else in the park, the child 


A JOYFUL MEETING. 


373 


threw her arms round the neck of the rough 
old emigrant, and wept aloud for joy. Bessie, 
too, put her arms about him and kissed him, 
and called liim “ a darlin’, kind old creatur’,” 
and clapped her hands and laughed for joy, all 
unconscious, for the moment, of the crowd of 
idlers they were attracting. 

And where are mammy, and father, and 
all who* came with ye ? And will ye take us to 
them now ? And how long were ye on ^the 
sea ? ” These and many other questions chased 
each other from their lips before the overjoyed 
Paddy could get an opportunity to tell them 
that Peggy was “ watching the boxes ” while 
he and John were off searching for them. 

‘‘ Ye see, my darlin’s, yer father had the 
paper with Misther MixwilTs place wrote on 
it, so I had to trust my mimory. That failed 
me, and I’ve been hours sarchin’ could I find 
ye. If I ruiig at one door, I rung at tin-thou- 
sand, kapin’ these poor people on the shide- 
walk, o’ course, — not to be lettin’ thim walk 
up jintlemen’s steps, — and yet not a body in 


374 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


all Ameriky seemed ever to ha’ heerd o’ yer 
cornin’ at all.” 

“ And who are these with you, Paddy ? ” 
asked Bessie. 

‘‘ Och, dear, they’re poor innocent things 
that come over in the ship with us ; and as 
they were quite ignorant o’ the ways of a 
strange country, I was civil enough to take 
thim round with me to show thim the fine 
sights, poor things ! ” 

“ But 0, Paddy, why did mammy ever let 
you bring those fearful lookin’ clothes with 
ye ? ” asked Bessie. 

“ She don’t know I have them on at all, 
dear, but thinks old Dinnis is jist now orna- 
minted with them at the work-house ! How 
could I iver come to a strange place, jist like 
any common laborin’ man ? I resolved they 
should see for once that I had fine clothes, and 
that a respictable man bewilled thim to me, if 
I niver wore thim again ; and I think I niver 
will, ather, for the lads is hootin’ and howlin’ 
after me at ivery turn o’ the road.” 


A JOYFUL MEETING. 


875 


“ Haste back, Paddy,’’ said Marion, “ and 
tell father and mammy that America’s the 
loveliest land on the whole arth ; and that the 
people, all that we’ve seen yet, are just angels. 
Don’t stop to walk, dear man, but go on to 
yonder broad street, and there take a car to 
your left, and pay sixpence each, and it will 
land ye safe at the place you’re stopping in.” 

So Paddy stirred up his weary party, and 
dragging his wooden-soled brogues along, lum- 
bered up the gravel walk, followed by his un- 
couth shipmates, who evidently regarded him 
as a man ‘‘ born for a leader.” 

But the girls were not done with him yet ; 
and Marion, after feasting her homesick eyes 
on his awkward figure for a moment, called 
out, “ Paddy, I’n> so thankful you’re all safe ‘ 
in this dear country ; you won’t have to work 
so hard here for stirabout and herring.” 

Paddy walked back towards them, wiping 
away his tears with the sleeve of his coat. 

“ Dears,” he said moiirnfully, “ I used to 
think Ameriky all the hiveii I’d iver ask for, 
but now I’m here, the heart is as heavy and 


376 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


cold as a stone in my brist. IVe left the 
bones o’ Meg and little Pat — him as war 
Johnny Sheehan — behind me alone. When I 
was there I use to go and sit down by their 
cold bed and mend my clothes and talk to 
thim ; but I can niver do that in this fine 
place.” 

“ Paddy,” said Bessie, “ I haven’t asked you 
how ye left all the friends in Killyrooke and 
Cloynmally, — Mr. Murray’s family, and — and 
— and Elder Peter, too ; I hope he was well ? ” 

“ All’s well, dear, and partic’lar the Elder. 
He’s thriviii’ fine on the stones he ates, 
and growin’ every day harder and grayer,” 
answered Paddy, smiling through his tears. 

“ And Timmy, I hope he’s obedient, and 
will ’bide his father’s will about leaving 
home ? ” 

Paddy dropped his head mournfully, and 
made no reply. 

“ There was nothing wrong there, surely ? 
Timmy was living when you left ? ” she asked, 
in surprise at Paddy’s manner. 

“ Well, dear child,” cried Paddy, “ he was 


A JOYFUL MEETING. 


377 


living when we sailed ; but Timmy will never 
cross the sea to America.’’ 

“ Wasy^^s^ living and that was all ? ” asked 
Bessie. “ What ailed my poor old playmate, 
Paddy ? ” 

Paddy put his handkerchief to his eyes, and 
turned his back on her, saying, “ Now don’t 
break my heart with quistions, darlin’ ; whin 
ye come to us your mammy will revale it all 
to ye.” 

Bessie wanted to hear no more ; so she said, 
‘‘ Go, now, for yer friends are weary waiting, 
and we’ll find you before many hours.” 

Paddy’s grief suddenly gave way to gladness,^ 
and he exclaimed, “ Och, but I forgot to tell ye 
that I found a kin o’ mine on the ship — one 
Teddy Flask.” 

“ Who is he ? I never heard of him,” said 
Bessie. 

‘‘ Well, he’s ather a cousin to me, or Pm a 
cousin to him, I don’t jist mind which,” re- 
plied Paddy. “ But tell me where’s Nan ? 
My heart’s full o’ what I’ll do to her,” he 
added. 


378 


GEMS OF TEE BOG. 


“ Paddy, go on now, and we’ll tell you all at 
night,” said Bessie. “ Our time has come to 
be at home.” 

When the little nurses reached Mr. Max- 
well’s they found their father waiting them. 
The joyful meeting was almost as grateful to 
Mrs. Maxwell as to themselves,' for she had 
now heard all their story from John, and was 
prepared to welcome the whole family to her 
heart. ' ,■ 

The girls went with John to meet their 
beloved mammy, and to be surprised by the 
pleasant and merry face of Master Timmy, who 
Jiad accompanied them ! 

“ Why, Timmy, lad,” cried Bessie, “ Paddy 
made me believe that you were dead. I was 
afeared to ask my father, lest he’d say you 
were.” 

No Bessie,” said Timmy laughing. “ I’m 
quite alive I assure ye ! The Elder — dear 
man that he is — finally gave consint rather 
than sutler me to come without. And the 
darlin’ mother pladed that he’d give me all 
the clothes and tools and money I’d nade, and 


A JOYFUL MEETING. 


379 


send me off with his blessin’. And it’ll be 
a short day afore ye’ll see them all here, that’s 
if the Elder can lave Mr. Murray behind.” 

“ But why, then, didn’t you come to seek us, 
Timmy, and not let Paddy give me yon fearful 
scare ? ” asked Bessie. 

“ I stayed here to watch the boxes,” said 
Timmy. “ Paddy was that taken up with 
the new people and the strange dresses, that he 
couldn’t ’bide in at all. He was bid to take otf 
his workin’ clothes that he’d wore on the sea, and 
put on his Sunday ones ; and what did we see 
in a short space, but him in ‘ the ould masther’s 
shute ’ that we thought safe in the workhouse, 
goiii’ off the steps in company with half a 
dozen wild Irishmen he took under his wing 
on the ship, and at his heels a troop o’ 
boys. The people about the inn door all 
shouted with laughter, and one man cried, 
‘ There goes old Ireland and young America, 
hand in hand ! ’ Ye’d ha’ thought he’d 
known the lads all his life by the tarms they 
was on ; he givin’ them Irish pennies, and 
singin’ Irish songs to them afore he’d been two 


380 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


hours off the ship. He called the stupid loons 
he was ladiii’ about, ‘ these poor sthrangers in 
a sthrange land,’ and said he must put himself 
about getting work and homes for them on the 
morrow ! Ye’d a thought he’d lived in Amer- 
ica all his life, and had hapes of influence in 
it. There’s one thing we’ve done for America, 
already ; we’ve brought her a man, the like o’ 
whom, for wisdom and folly, she never saw 
before.” 


CHAPTER XXXiy. 


THE OLD FOE AGAIN. 

M r. maxwell was so charmed with this 
new development of Irish character, that 
he made places for John and Paddy in his 
warehouse, as porter and teamster. Tlie girls 
cheerfully kept their situations till, as he 
promised to do, their father should be able to 
send them to school again. 

With aid of the girls, Peggy found rooms 
in a neatly-kept tenement house of the bet- 
ter class, and ‘soon made her humble city 
home shine as brightlj" as the cottage in Killy- 
rooke had done ; and her grateful heart was 
gladdened every Sunday evening by seeing the 
pleasant faces of her children again at her 
table. 

But these “ Gems of the Bog ’’ did not sit sel- 
fishly and quietly down to rejoice in their deliv- 


381 


382 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


erance from enemies, and tlieir safe conduct to 
a land flowing with milk and honey. They 
looked about at once for work, each one ask- 
ing, “ What shall I render unto the Lord for 
all His benefits toward me ? ” 

Peggy soon found neighbors who needed 
help and comfort, and without breathing a 
word against their faith, she talked to them of 
that which was the joy and the rejoicing of 
her own heart. John, also, by his kind and 
obliging ways, made friends among the men, 
both in the store, and in the neighborhood 
where he lived. Relieved from the pressure 
of his old conviction at home — that all had 
known his sin and therefore regarded him as a 
hypocrite, — he began to talk and to labor 
more openly. Peggy, through Mrs. Maxwell’s 
aid and encouragement. Opened again her knit- 
ting and singing meetings in the evenings when 
toil was over. The husbands and brothers of 
the women dropped in now and then for a chat, 
and they too would listen, and sometimes sing. 
Mr. Maxwell, who was himself an earnest 
worker in the same good cause, supplied John 


THE OLD FOE AGAIN. 


383 


with books of interest to read and to lend to 
his neighbors ; and occasionally visited him to 
cheer him on. He was amazed at the power of 
Peggy over the women and girls, and charmed 
by John’s humble zeal and his earnest desire 
for the souls of his countrymen, whom he re- 
garded as bound in chains of error. He was 
also greatly pleased with John and Paddy as 
faithful laborers in the store, and he felt sure 
that God had work for the humble family in 
their new home. 

One day, a few weeks after their arrival, as 
the redoubtable Paddy was passing through one 
of the great thoroughfares, he saw a fair-faced 
blind woman who was relating to passers-by, — 
not one of whom stopped to listen, — the story 
of her woes. “ For the love o’ mercy,” she said, 
‘‘ give a shilling to a poor blind lady, whose 
liusband is just after having his arm imputated, 
and nothing at all in the house to ate.” 

Such poverty in America was surprising to 
Paddy, and he stepped up to lay his offering in 
her extended palm. The face of the blind 
woman was too familiar to deceive him, even 


384 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


under the greeii shade ; and he exclaimed, 
“ And whin did ye lose yer eyes, Nan ? ’’ 

‘‘ I’m not Nan O’Gorman,” she cried, and I 
iiiver heard o’ Killyrooke in all my life.” 

“ And who said that was yer name, or yer 
home, I’d ask ? ” cried Paddy, his temper ris- 
ing at her audacity. “ I’d inform ye that my 
masther’s nare by, and he’ll have ye ’rested for 
stalin’ his childer, and ye’ll then have a chance 
to see what’s a Yankee prison like.” 

“ Powers o’ evil ! ” cried Nan, “ why did ye 
iver sind Paddy Mannon all the way over the 
sea to tormint me ? Whist, Paddy, and I’ll till 
ye a sacret. I’ve jist turned to this business to 
gather a little money to take me to Cal’forny, 
where they gets high wages for sittin’ still. 
Don’t till on me, for I’m sore afraid o’ yon 
starn Misther Mixwill, who thritened to ’rist 
me ; and I’ll promise niver more to go nare 
the Sheehans while I live. Will ye plidge yer 
honor ? ” 

“ No,” said Paddy, “ I’ll call the first polish- 
man I see, and get ye put into prison for life.” 

And Paddy, in his zeal to expose the impos- 


TEE OLD FOE AGAIN, 


385 


tor, began to tell her story to some listeners, 
when she darted down the street, turned into 
a narrow alley, and was off for ‘‘ Cal’forny ” or 
some other distant region. 

Paddy had little idea of the vastness of the 
city, and thought he could find her at any 
time by going to the street in which she had 
disappeared. So ho gathered quite a crowd of 
idlers about him, and discoursed at consider- 
able length on Nan’s genealogy, and on the 
fate which had “ well nigh swipt the blood 
o’ the race off the face o’ the arth entirely.” 

His audience became quite interested in 
Nan’s history, and Paddy, seeing this, grew 
eloquent, and throwing back his head, gave 
vent to a torrent of “ varses.” 

“ Och, lads o’ Ameriky ! Sons o’ the free ! 

I’d like to be makin’ a bargain with ye. 

That ye’ll jine me in sarchin this wide city o’er. 

Till we bring Nan O’ Gorman a Justice afore. 

“ Nather silver nor gold has poor Paddy to give. 

But he’ll love ye and bliss ye as long as ye live. 

If ye’ll help him to dare her quite off on the sea i 
For he’ll niver rest asy in the land where she be ! ” 

Of course this and much more of the same 


386 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


style charmed the boys, and many of them fol- 
lowed Paddy when he moved on, asking him 
where he lived, and if he made poetry for a 
living. 

Paddy was so flattered that he was tempted 
to tell a lie, and own himself “ a varse-maker 
by trade whereby he arned a fine livin’, howl- 
in’ at funerals and singiii’ at fairs in the ould 
counthry ; ” but he said he had changed his 
business in this city, ‘‘ and was now tamester 
to Mr. Mixwill, ontirely.” 

At dinner-time Paddy went home, his face 
radiant with good news. 

“ Look, dear,” he said to Peggy, “ Pve fine 
news to tell ye. I’ve found Nan, and I have 
consorted with a score o’ boys to delude her off 
to the sea, and if good luck be with us, drown 
her, maybe ! ” 

“ Paddy, ye shall niver touch a hair o’ her 
head. We’re raised up beyond her power to 
harm us, and I hope the Lord will pity and 
save her,” said Peggy. 

“I’d be very sorry for that, for it would be 
quite discouragin’ ontirely if she was trated 


TEE OLD FOE AGAIN. 


387 


as fine as yersilf in the matter o’ religion. 
She’s no right to it after all the ill she has 
done us. I’d feel myself quite wronged if she 
got as good tratement as oursilves,” exclaimed 
Paddy. 

“Oh, poor man, it’s little we deserves from 
the hand o’ the Lord ourselves.” said Peggy. 

“ Humph ! I’ll niver give in but I desarves 
a finer heaven nor she ! ” 

“ Ye desarve no heaven at all, Paddy. If 
any o’ us be so happy as to enter in at last, it 
will be o’ free grace.” 


CHAPTER XXXY. 


PROMOTION AND REWARD. 

HEN the Sheehan family had been about 



f f six months in their new home, and all 
was going on well with them, Paddy came in 
to dinner one day, evidently much cast down. 
He pulled his hat over his eyes, — his custom 
when in grief, — and said mournfully, ‘‘ No 
dinner for me this day, misthress dear.” 

“ What’s gone wrong, Paddy ? ” asked 
Peggy. “ I hope you’ve not angered the 
jintlemen at the store ? ” 

“ No, but they has angered me sore,” re- 
plied the poor fellow. “ I’m disgraced and 
ruined for iver, and can niver hould up my 
head more in public. They’ve turned my 
masther into a coal-haver.” 

“ A coal-haver ? ” cried Peggy. 

“ Jist that. All was goin’ on will, Misther 


388 


PROMOTION AND REWARD. 389 

Mixwill seemin’ to think there was jist only one 
man in the place ! It war ‘ Sheehan ’ here and 
‘ Sheehan ’ tliere, and more nor once I’ve 
heerd him tellin’ jintlemen what a fine religious 
family we war — ’specially himself and ye. 

“ Will, to-day, when the door was full up 
with bales, our minister come steppin’ over 
them with a high man with hair like a hay-mow 
on the top o’ his head, and a white nick-cloth, 
as big as a sheet, about his nick. Misther Mix- 
will shuk hands with them very glad-like, and 
bid them into the coontin’-room, and in five 
minutes more he opened the door and called 
in my masther, who was histin’ bales. 

“ I made an errand by the place, and put my 
ear to the window, — not at all with a view o’ 
listenin’, for I’m too uiinerable a man for that 
like maneness, — and heerd them ask my 
masther many questions, and thin say, ‘ by the 
will, thin, o’ Misther Mixwill ye’ll be no more 
in this store, but be our coal-haver.’ 

‘‘ My masther niver lifted his tongue agin it ; 
but he was very solemn whin he came out from 
the grand folk. I doubt but the old story has 


390 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


followed us to Ameriky, and will hunt us till 
we hides in the grave. Och, och, why iver did 
I lave my own peaceful grave in Ireland, and 
come here to be buried in a strange man’s 
grave ? ” 

When John came in, and “the lad” was 
gone, Peggy said, with a smile, “ Paddy says 
ye are tamed out o’ yer place, and made a 
coal haver, dear.” 

“A coal haver!”, cried John. “The sim- 
ple fellow has been listening to the talk o’ two 
gentlemen with Mr. Maxwell about me. It 
seems, darlin’, that the hearts of some o’ the 
Lord’s people here is stirred up to make known 
the Gospel to them that will nather go to His 
house nor read His Word. And they have 
bound thimselves into a society like for that 
end, and pay men (not ministers) to go from 
house to house among the poor and the sinful, 
readin’ and talkin’ to all that will listen. 
They had heard through Mr. Maxwell o’ our 
poor efforts among our neighbors, and came to 
see would he let me off to be a worker for 
them — a ‘colporter,’ as they calls it. And 


PROMOTION AND REWARD. 391 

that’s sure the very word Paddy got hold on ; 
he thought a colporter was a coal-haver, poor 
lad.” 

“ And what did ye say to them, dear ? ” 
asked Peggy, with real pleasure in her eye. 

‘‘ I said I’d consult ye, and if ye’d think me 
worthy, I’d begin at once. I really belave, 
darlin’, that I’ve been doin’ a sort o’ pinance 
by keepin’ my sin always afore my mind, when 
that sin was forgiven and to be remembered 
no more agin me for ever. Och, Peggy, if 
our own righteousness is nothing to live on, 
what can our sins be ? I’m going to strive 
hinceforth to think only on the love and the 
marcy that has washed them all away.” 

Paddy’s only remark, when he heard of this 
change of work, was, “ And sure, thin, he’ll be 
a sort o’ a minister, and wear a fine white 
nickcloth like Mr. Murray. Why couldn’t 
Mammy Honey ha’ lived to see this day ? ” 

Timmy secured work at once in a granite- 
yard, where he had need of all his strength ; 
and “ being fine at the pen and the figures,” 
he made himself very useful among the lads 


392 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


whom John gathered into his kitchen in the 
evening to listen to reading and to be kept out 
of mischief. Paddy aided greatly in the work 
by forming acquaintances among the young 
men and boys, whom he decoyed into the 
“ tachin’s ’’ by promises of “ fine stories about 
Ireland,” if they would stay till the clock 
struck nine. He would redeem his word 
by tales of witches and ghosts, of ball-playing 
and quoit-pitching, till John was ready for his 
reading and Peggy for the singing. They 
would remain, and frequently return without a 
repetition of Paddy’s pious fraud, which was 
known only to himself and them. 

■On Sunday evenings, when the girls were 
always at home, the room was generally full of 
listeners to the sweet singing ; and scores thus 
heard of the love and pity of the Saviour, who 
would not have dared to listen to a sermon or 
a prayer outside their own church. 

One day Paddy came in* after one of his 
missionary efforts, and pulling his hat over his 
eyes, said, Misthress darlin, there come a 
very troubling thought into my head when I 


PROMOTION AND REWARD. 


393 


was strivin’ to drag in these wild lads to hear 
the singin’ and the readin’.” 

“ What was that, Paddy ? ’’ asked Peggy 
kindly. 

“ Will, thin, I thought, here’s me takin’ all 
this pains to get other ones to plaze God, and 
thinkin’ very little about doin’ it mysilf, or 
gittin’ my own soul saved. Times gone I was 
asy, becase I thought, bein’ a Catholic, I’d push 
into heaven among the crowd, few o’ whom 
war as good as mysilf. And since I’ve turned 
Protestant I’ve trusted that I’d git in for bein’ 
in such fine company. And jist now I’m 
thinkin’ I’ll not be let in at all, at all. If I’ll 
not be saved for yer goodness, nor yet for the 
dear misthress, sure I’ll not be let in for my 
own, — becase why? Becase I hasn’t any.” 

“ I’m glad, my dear man, that ye’ve found it 
out,” cried Peggy, ‘^for I’ve regarded ye as 
the self-righteousest cretur’ that ever lived on 
the arth. And none will ever receive Christ 
till he’s emptied o’ silf.” 

“ Will, thin,” cried Paddy, “ I’m surprised 
that I’ve been let live all this . time, hatin’ 


394 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


ivery body that didn’t jist admire us, and 
scornin’ all that warn’t equally grand. And 
now I look worse to mysilf nor even Nan. She 
did as she war tached, and I didn’t. And 
what’ll I do now ? ” 

“ Ye’ll just have to do what every other sin- 
ner does, Paddy, before he finds pace ; believe 
what Jesus says, and give yersilf to Him.” 

“ I’ll do that, thin,” cried Paddy, with tears 
in his eyes, but it’s a mane thing entirely 
to bring only my grey hair and my failin’ 
strength to the Lord, when I might ha’ given 
Him my bist years, and I’m jist ashamed to do 
it.” 

“ And yet, Paddy, all the labor of those ‘ bist 
years ’ could not have purchased salvation for 
ye. That is ever a free gift. 

** ‘ Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness 
My beauty are, my glorious dress ; 

’Mid flaming worlds in these arrayed, 

With joy shall I lift up my head.* ” 

“ Aye, and will ye may lift up yer head with 
joy, ye that have lived like an angel, with 
niver a hatred in yer heart nor a lie on yer 


PROMOTION AND REWARD. 


395 


tongue ! Look at the marcy I’ve had o’ the Lord. 
Such religious lamin’, — catechisms and com- 
mandments and psalms and hums bate into me 
from the time I left the workhouse, till this 
hour ! And I’ve laughed at the catechism, and 
broke the commandments, and twisted the holy 
varses into nonsinse. Mysilf it was, who 
scared the poor fool who disgraced our fine 
funerel, by chasing him near the church yard 
till he fell and was tuk up for dead, none 
knowin’ what ailed him ! And I it was that 
set fire to our inimy’s cottage. And oh, the 
lies I’ve told! It would take seven year to 
confiss them to ye. Only tin days agone I 
lured two rough lads into the night-tachins by 
tellin’ that ye closed up by giviii’ the boys a 
fine, supper. Ye mind how yon ones sat long 
after all else war gone ? Will, thin, I beck- 
oned them out, and told them the butcher dis- 
appointed ye ill not sending the young pig ye 
war to roast for us ! And didn’t I tell the 
darks in Mr. Mixwell’s store that ye were 
niver common farmer people at home, but that 
my masther war brother to Harply Hall, and 


396 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


tliafc we only tuk a freak and came off to 
Anieriky in disguisli for a little sport, — the 
way Victoory of England do at times ! I told 
them we laughed at the pittance Mr. Mixwill 
gives us in wages, and often threw it away 
among the boys on our road home, and that I 
war yer butler in Ireland as my fatlier war be- 
fore me ! Sure I can niver be forgive for all 
that and a thousand evils more.” 

“ 0’ course they didn’t belave a word on’t, 
and laughed at ye for thinkin’ they did ; but ye 
must confiss yer sin, and humble yersilf before 
them, and tell them ye’ve repinted and are 
seeking the Lord,” said Peggy. 

Paddy shook his head mournfully, and said, 
“ I used to think if iver I could grow rich and 
have tin pounds in the Bank, I ask no greater 
happiness. But now, if I could but be forgive 
and get pace, I niver care if I didn’t look on 
another farthin’ while I lives ! ” 

“ Paddy,” said his mistress, ‘‘ there’s one only 
can give ye pace, poor man, and ye know 
where to find Him. Go to Him and confess 
yar sin, and ask Him to pity and pardon ye 


PROMOTION AND REWARD. 397 

for the sake o’ His dear Son, who came to 
save the simple as well as the wise.” 

‘‘ I used to think, dear, that I was wiser nor 
any other one, but now every word I spakes 
sounds like an idiot’s,” replied Paddy. 

“ In the multitude o’ words there wanteth 
not sin, dear man,” said Peggy ; so the less 
ye talk the less danger ye’ll be in o’ sinnin’. 
Even the wise King David had to set a double 
watch on his lips lest he might sin with his 
tongue.” 

“ Mammy Honey once told me my tongue 
gave her great sorrow, and bid me count tin 
every time before I’d spake, so as to have 
space to think what I’d be to say. I’ll obey her 
orders aven at this late day, and so strive to 
plasc the Lord. If iver ye hear me boastin’, 
rebuke me, dear, for I have a sore longin’ to 
be rid o’ evil and to sarve the Lord the small 
space that’s lift me here ; for I jist feel I love 
Him so, that Pd lay my life down rather nor 
grieve Him.” 

There was a marked change in poor Paddy 
after this time. Although he kept his merry old 


398 


GEMS OF THE BOG. 


heart, and still “ consorted with boys in place o’ 
men”; his calm and modest demeanor, and his 
zeal in every work of mercy gave great joy to 
those who had spent so much labor on him. 

At the end of three years, the Sheehans 
were joined in their new home by Elder Peter 
and his wife. The hard nature of the stone- 
cutter had undergone a great change during 
his painful separation from his beloved Tim- 
my ; and the work of softening was carried on 
still farther by the genial influences which now 
surrounded him in the church to which he had 
been at once introduced. 

Timmy had grown into a strong and noble 
man, proud of his trade and of his skill at it. 
He rejoiced that “ miracles o’ money could be 
wrought out o’ the hard stone by a strong arm 
and a powerful will ; and the money he thus 
earned was as free as the air to all who needed 
help. He had now become a real helper to his 
friends in every good work. Timmy had not, 
however, overcome “ his old wakeness ” which 
he had inherited from some far-off ancestor. 
When the Elder saw that he devoted all his 


PROMOTION AND REWARD. 


399 


leisure time to Bessie, he remarked, “ It’s 
just as I always prophesied ; he has turned out 
a gallant, or a lover or some such thing.” But 
the old man was not annoyed by the fulfilment 
of his words, but, on the contrary, he entered 
into all his son’s plans for the happy future. 
He established himself at once in a stone yard, 
and took Timmy into partnership with him. 
He is now aiding the Sheehans in their good 
work, and laying up a little store wherewith 
Timmy and Bessie may ere long set up another 
new home in the New World. 

And here we take leave of these ‘‘ Gems of 
the Bog,” asking, for their sakes, the sympathy 
of the reader, in that class for whom especially 
they labored and prayed. 


THE END. 


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